


Fuck the Dancing Clown

by The_Inkinator



Series: Some of the Strangest Crossovers You'll Find [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: BAMF Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Bisexual Stanley Uris, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Genius Richie Tozier, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Good Parent Karen Wheeler, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Minor Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Minor Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Oblivious Mike Wheeler, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Post-Season/Series 02, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Siblings Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Swearing, Teenage Losers Club (IT), That's not a tag, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but before season 3, how sad, i want to add more stranger things ships but i don't know which ones are my otps yet..., lots of the stuff, my idea of what shining is - not entire telepathicness, richie's parents are neglectful, she's truly the best in this, so is Joyce, that's probably not true to cannon but it is for this, the losers are kinda telepathic, there aren't any bad descriptions of violence...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Inkinator/pseuds/The_Inkinator
Summary: Richie uses study as a coping mechanism after that summer but decides that because he's acing all of his subjects he doesn't need to attend school. As a punishment, his parents send him to Hawkins, Indiana for the summer. He had thought it would be the most boring summer of his life without his friends or the love of his life Eddie Kaspbrak there to keep his mind away from the terrible things they'd seen. He didn't think it was possible for him to miss the mark so badly.(This is heavily inspired by a lot of other crossover fanfictions I've been reading lately so if there are any similarities, I assure you, I know. I just wanted to write something that I thought was such a cool idea.)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers & Richie Tozier, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Mike Hanlon & Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Richie Tozier & Mike Wheeler, Richie Tozier & Nancy Wheeler, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Series: Some of the Strangest Crossovers You'll Find [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601536
Comments: 44
Kudos: 204





	1. Into the Unknown (and yes, I'm quoting Frozen in the 80s)

**Author's Note:**

> One of my friends uses studying as a form of coping, and I thought perhaps I could write something like that into this story, but then I needed a reason to send Richie to Hawkins... What better reason than the accusation of him failing at school because his friends were distracting him?  
> The way I wrote Richie isn't at all similar to my friend really, he uses studying when he's panicking as well as a method to prevent panic, while my friend only uses it for the latter.  
> I know a lot of the stuff I'm going to be bringing up in this may not be accurate to real life, but neither are Demagorgans or Dancing Demon Clowns.
> 
> I wrote this in school on paper and I don't know if I'm going to continue it or not since I hate trying to run two stories at once but I'll give it a try. If not I put this one on hiatus until I can get the other one finished. :)

Richie knew he'd pushed his parents too far that school year. He had skipped most lessons and even if he was still pulling straight As (which he was), he knew no one was impressed. The losers didn't care. They saw him studying, every evening, in their clubhouse. He didn't hate learning, he just hated school. While all of his friends were only studying a few subjects, Richie Tozier had decided to study all of them at once. However, even with all of the extracurricular work he was doing, his parents still thought he was slacking.

It was the second to last day of the school year when Richie finally found out his punishment. Standing there in the living room after having been called back just before he was about to leave for the Barrens, the stern looks of Maggie and Wentworth prevented him from making a snarky comment. "Richard-" _Shit._ He thought. _I'm in deep shit._ "-as you know, your mother and I are unimpressed by your lack of commitment to schoolwork. We have tried to reason with you, but no matter what, your attendance continues to remain poor." He could tell it was a poor attempt at making it seem like Wentworth knew anything about what he was saying. Richie knew neither of his parents cared enough to have noticed he was skipping, which meant that the school had explicitly made this happen. "Your teachers have also made it apparent that you've been cheating on all of your exams." As expected, the teachers were involved, because none of them thought he could pass those exams without having attended school, like their words were the only key to success. However, that wasn't the part that killed his entire argument. "We have reason to believe it's the influence of your friends who are causing the problem." Richie couldn't prevent his jaw from clicking open in pure, unbridled shock. How could they claim that? How could they accuse his only friends of being a bad influence when he's the one who runs away from school because being there makes him want to throw up in his mouth and the only way to get rid of that feeling is to get out? They knew nothing about any of his friends.

His mother continued next. Richie didn't want to hear what she had to say. "So, as you can't seem to find the time amongst hanging out with friends to attend school..."

His father carried on. He hated it when they finished each other's sentences, acting like they'd been planning the talk for weeks before when it was likely they'd only just been made aware of the situation. "You're going to stay with your aunt and uncle in Hawkins for the summer." He didn't think his jaw to fall any lower. If it had, he was sure it would have fallen right off of his face. His parents looked at him with tired, but expecting eyes, as if they thought he'd have enough fight left in him after that to argue his case. Richie found, not for the first time in the summer to come, that he was entirely speechless. He sat there for a thick minute, before standing and storming out of the house, slamming the front door closed behind him. He hoped and prayed, to the Turtle who created the universe, that one of his friends had a textbook on them. He needed to destress. He scooped up his bike and quickly cycled towards the Barrens.

* * *

Hawkins had, had its fair share of weird moments. To any outsider, it would seem like a fairly normal town. The people all knew each other and most of the police work was dealing with petty fights between neighbours. Of course, that was just the look from a tourist. Tourists were nieve. What they failed to see was the strange disappearance of Will Byers, and even stranger reappearance one summer; the death of Bob 'the brains' the next year, and the strange disappearances of children the current year. Some of the kids were found. Their bodies mangled and lying at the end of a sewer pipe. None had been found alive. If anyone thought to say anything, they would have said it was almost like they weren't even meant to find those bodies.

After the Demagorgan and the Mind Flayer incidents, Will Byers had thought his strange premonitions were over. However, as the list of missing children steadily grew, Will's nightmares turned from the horrors of his past to devilish things he hoped weren't the future. It took him a while before he told anyone. He couldn't decipher the meaning of his dreams and he didn't want to give anyone a false fright, but when he saw the same red balloon hovering in the middle of the street to the one he'd seen in his dreams he rushed to tell Jonathan all about it. For the time being, the two decided they didn't have enough evidence to bring the group together again.

Eleven, or Jane, as her real name was, had sensed an evil arrive in the town, but had been unsuccessful in finding its source with her sight. How do you find something that feels like it's coming from every direction at once?

* * *

On the last day of school, the losers all pedalled as fast as they could away from the school and towards the Barrens. Richie had skipped the second half of the day and had promised them he would be there when they got out. Eddie had feared he would end up half-buried in textbooks in the time that they weren't with him. He knew Richie's methods of coping with the trauma weren't healthy, but it wasn't like any of them had a solution, and they couldn't ask for help. While Eddie was worried, he was also excited. That summer would mark his and Richie's second year officially together, and Eddie would be damned if he let the townspeople stop him from loving his boyfriend. Bill was, of course, riding in front of the group. The dull grey of his bike 'Silver' somehow reflecting the sun every time he called out with glee. The others weren't far behind him. All of them were chatting loudly over the sound of their bike chains rattling. After Bev had left, the group had felt oddly empty. All of them agreed that they all had the same feeling, like a part of them had been torn away. The group had spent to years getting used to the fact that they could just sense things about each other after their encounter with Pennywise the dancing-fucking-clown. That sense returned as an uncomfortable dread settled into Eddie's gut. He prayed to the Turtle who created the universe that what he was feeling was sickness from the bad bologna they'd had for lunch.

The group hooked their bikes up above the river, under the bridge, like they always did. Richie's bike wasn't there, Eddie later realised, and that should have been the first inclination that Richie wasn't where he said he was going to be. The second should have come when they saw the skylight of their clubhouse hadn't been uncovered. Dropping into the homely room one by one, they looked to Richie's usual reading corner and found all of his books neatly stacked like they were before he started working and no Richie. All of them knew they should have seen the signs sooner as they looked around for signs of life, but none of them could explain their lack of realisation. "H-he should be he-ere." Bill's stutter had mostly retreated after he'd started speech therapy the year before. On most occasions, it was impossible to tell that he had one in the first place. It only ever showed up badly when he was nervous or scared. Each of the losers looked at each other. Eddie knew the moment his eyes locked with Stan's, that they'd all had that dread sitting in their guts for a while. Richie.

Before any of them had time to process, they were back on their bikes, cycling at top speed again, but instead of towards the Barrens, they were rushing in the direction of Richie's house. Stan was the first to hop off of his bike, quickly jumping up the steps to Richie's house and knocking on the door while the others all climbed off their bikes. They moved up behind Stan, their shoulders tensing in anticipation for Pennywise to jump out and laugh about how he'd killed Richie. Much to the relief of the entire group, it was Richie who answered the door. Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier was stood on the other side of the threshold, looking at his best friends with a shocked expression. "Aw, schucks! If you wanted a little privacy together, I would have been slower putting on my pants." Stan moved much faster than Eddie would have thought. He slapped Richie in the arm, hard. Eddie got there a second later and pulled the glasses-wearing loser into a bone-crushing hug. "What the hell are you trying to pull Trashmouth? We were all worried when you weren't in the clubhouse." Eddie tried to sound scolding, but his tone turned to concern as he felt the grip of dread loosen in his stomach.

"What's there to be worried about, huh? Clown-face is gone, there's nothing to worry about!" He opened the door wider on instinct to let the others in and realised just a moment too late that his half-packed bags were thrown around the lounge and visible to every single loser.

"What the fuck?"

"Are you leaving?"

"What the hell do you think this is, asswipe? You expect us to not get concerned when half your stuff is half-packed into army sized suitcases?" The sudden outburst had Ben and Richie wincing. Ben because he didn't approve of the sudden rise in volume, and Richie because he'd been hoping to avoid the entire confrontation. He tried to hide the grimace in a grin, but it came out at forced so he dropped it. He had hated the idea of having to tell the losers that he wouldn't be able to spend the summer with them so much that he couldn't bring himself to tell them anything.

"W-well? A-are you g-g-g-going to exp-p-plain?" Richie forced himself to repress the second wince. Bill's stutter had gotten bad again, and it was Richie's fault. The glare on Bill's face was one Richie had only ever seen directed at It or Ms Kaspbrak when she dragged Eddie away from them. He hated being on the receiving end of it. It made him feel like he needed to shrink into himself.

"Mum and Dad think I should spend the summer with my aunt and uncle as a punishment for my low attendance." Richie felt the last shreds of distrust melt away before he'd even realised that was what he was sensing from them. Realisation dawned on their faces as they all came to the same conclusion at the same time.

"Richie? Didn't you tell them that you're grades are exceptional and you are studying in your free time?" Ben looked appalled at the idea of not having Richie around for the entire summer. The emotion was written as clearly across his face as all the other emotions he wore. Richie was grateful he could at least get that emotion from Ben, while the others all seemed closed off and in thought. He'd, of course, tried to explain that after getting back from the Barrens the night he's stormed out, but they had none of it. He showed them his notebooks, but they told him " _Just because you stole one of your classmate's notebooks, it doesn't get you off the hook._ "

"All the teach's told 'em I'd cheated on all me' tests!" He switched to his bad impression of Dick Van Dyke. The voice drew a few small chuckles from Mike and Ben mostly while the others all groaned in annoyance. He allowed the group to fall into mindless chatter as they spread out in his living room, unanimously agreeing to help Richie pack without needing to voice it. He appreciated it, truly. If they hadn't come over, he was afraid he'd forget to pack his clothes.

Once clothes were sorted into one suitcase, they decided to let Richie pick out what books he would take along with him while they sorted through his stationary. He rarely read fiction anymore, horror even less. To him, textbooks provided cold, hard facts, where demon, world eating clowns didn't exist. Reading those books was how he coped, like how Stan chose to fiddle with anything when those memories surfaces, or how Mike pulled his grandfather's gun out from under his bed and fired a few rounds into a tree. They each had their methods of coping, some were unhealthy, like Eddie's obsessive cleaning, or Bill's repression. The losers all helped each other, limiting their coping mechanisms while also providing them when it was necessary. At first, they thought Richie hadn't been affected at all. He was constantly helping them and yet they never saw him fall apart. Bill was the one to find him and discover his method of coping. He'd been early to the clubhouse one day and had found Richie making messy notes on one of Ben's history textbooks.

 _Bill dropped down into their clubhouse. He'd meant to cycle over his Stan, but on his way over he'd thought he'd seen a red balloon and panicked. He wasn't sure what he'd seen in the end but decided it didn't matter when he noticed someone sat in the corner of the room where they kept their textbooks. He turned his body and found Richie hunched over a textbook, scribbling notes into a scruffy notebook beside him. Even with his speeding writing, Bill could see Richie was shaking. Slowly, and quietly to avoid spooking the other, he moved in the direction of the corner. He crouched down in front of Richie and gently took the pen from his shaking fingers. The moment the pen was gone Richie let out a blood-curdling scream. Bill moved quickly, seeing the panic in his friend's eyes. "H-hey. It's o-okay. I-I-I've got you." He soothed, wrapping Richie up in a hug. The other continued shaking, not calming down no matter what trick Bill tried. He looked at the pen he'd dropped on the floor when Richie had started sobbing. He wondered._ Maybe that was how he coped. Studying can be distracting if you get into it. _He reached out and grabbed the pen off of the floor. He held it out to the other. For a moment he didn't think Richie would take it, but then the same shaking fingers reached up and took the pen. It took Richie a moment to stop shaking enough for the notes on the page to be coherent, but once they were, Bill could see that they were incredibly detailed._ _He stayed beside Richie until the other stopped moving his pen._

_"I'm so sorry," Richie breathed after a moment of silence. Bill shook his head quickly, refusing to accept the apology._

_"W-What is there t-t-to b-b-be sorry ab-b-bout?" Back then, Bill's stutter had still been bad._

_"You guys all have your problems, you don't need to be dealing with mine as well." Richie looked up at Bill through his slightly misted glasses. He looked ashamed in himself. Bill opened his arms, not going to touch Richie without his permission again. When the other leaned into his arms, he closed them quickly around the other and hugged him tightly._

_"N-n-n-n-no. Y-y-you deal w-w-with all of o-our p-p-pro-o-o-oblems, s-s-so you sh-shouldn't have to fight alone with y-y-yours." A watery smile formed on Richie's lips when he deciphered Bill's stutter. It hurt Bill inside when he realised it was the first real smile he'd seen on Richie for a while._

After that, the other losers had been made aware with Richie's permission and they all agreed to leave their textbooks with Richie so he could read them whenever he needed them. However, while the losers all knew how bright a kid Richie was, his parents never saw that side of him. If it had taken that long for his best friends to find out, his neglectful parents would likely never find out. When he was home he was filling the void his parents left behind with their neglect by feeding everyone, doing the chores and cleaning the house every weekend. Sometimes the losers would try to offer their help, but he always turned them down. Whenever he did go out, the two adults that were meant to notice, wouldn't have noticed if he'd gone missing and never returned. Some nights he left in the middle of the night. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to walk past his parent's bedroom and out the front door. On those nights he would walk to Eddie's house, a tensing in his gut telling him something was wrong. On those nights, he always tapped on the window a few seconds after Eddie had awoken from a horrid nightmare.

Richie was snapped out of his musings when he heard Eddie speak. "So, because your parents are too neglectful to notice your head buried in a textbook most of the time they're sending out away?" Richie knew what would wipe that concerned expression off of his lover's cute face.

"Right-i-o Spaghetti-o!" He chirped out, giving a large wink along with it. Eddie groaned in annoyance, but there was a tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips that hadn't been there before, so Richie counted that as a win.

"When are you leaving?" Mike asked from where he was packing away a few textbooks of his choosing for Richie to read while he was away.

"As soon as these bags are packed. If I leave on time, I'll get there by about 10 tomorrow." They all snapped their heads up at that. Various degrees of shock written across their faces.

"And you didn't think to tell us all of this sooner!" Eddie gasped in horror. His face was pale and he was starting to rub the back of his hands. It was a nervous tick he'd picked up not long after his main coping mechanism had formed.

"I knew you'd try to fight against it. Nothing is going to change my parents' minds. Besides, the day was only changed to today this morning because I hadn't cleaned the dishes the night before. I wasn't even home to know there were dishes to wash." He knew not complaining about the fact that he had to wash dishes at all wasn't normal. He knew it, and yet he was so used to his way of living, sometimes he forgot.

"Does Bev know?" Ben asked quietly from where he was helping Stan fold up some extra clothing in case anything got ruined. Richie paused. He hadn't thought to tell Bev. Slowly, he shook his head. Ben gave him an understanding smile and spoke up again, with a little more volume the second time around. "I can call her if you don't want to face her just yet." Richie was quick to accept the offer. He knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but he couldn't bring himself to face Bev. He looked down at his hand where the jagged scar from their blood oath remained. He hoped he never forgot his years in Derry, even if he hated every moment of them. After a moment of thought, he called out after Ben. "Make sure her aunt knows as well! I don't want her to think I've forgotten about our special time together." He felt pride swell in him when he heard the collective 'Beep Beep Richie' from every being in the room.

The bags were packed. Richie couldn't bring himself to say finally, because he'd secretly hoped it would take him all summer to pack he wouldn't have to leave at all. Somehow there was a bus that ran between Derry and Hawkins. It would take 12 hours but at least he wouldn't have to worry about missing a stop. The losers all walked with him to the bus stop and waited beside him despite his protests. When the bus turned up a few minutes later, they all pulled him into a tight hug each, Eddie's lasting longer and finishing with a brief make-out. They checked that he knew all of their numbers and insisted he called before helping him put his stuff into the holding before the drivers had finished swapping their shift. He hopped onto the bus and glanced over his shoulder at his best friends. He gave them all his best 'I'll be fine' smile. He felt the rush of love hit him. He sent his right back. Quickly, he moved further down the bus to find a seat. Settling in, he glanced out the window again, unable to take his eyes off of his friends as the bus finally pulled out of the station. In one last-ditch effort to get a laugh out of his solemn friends, he cracked open one of the windows. "See you next year fuckers!" He yelled over the groaning of the engine. His friends paused their waving then all flipped him off in unison. He didn't need to see their lips moving to know what they'd called out to him.

"Beep Beep Richie!" As he sat back down, ignoring the glares he was receiving from a small group of elderly people. A sigh left his lips as he ran his hands through his hair. For the first time in Richie's life, he thought summer couldn't end faster, but knew it would be a long one even so.

He didn't realise how wrong he was.


	2. Ghosts Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took five double-sided pieces of paper to write. Not five sides like the last chapter, five whole ass pages. Gosh dang it.

Summer had officially begun. Mike couldn't be more excited. He had almost finished planning for the next campaign, and El would finally be allowed out of the house on her own. He was tidying the basement after the mess he and Holly had made the night before. "Mike! Come upstairs for a moment!" He dropped the pillows he had under his arms and jumped up the stairs two at a time. Mike and everyone else in his class had been hit with boundless waves of energy after the last school bell had rung. However, when he saw the expression on his mother's face, one he didn't quite recognise, he felt all of that energy seep right out of him. Nancy was sat at the dining table, likely having also been called to the impromptu meeting. "Mike, take a seat please." He moved slowly, not knowing if he was about to get a lecture or not.

"Mum? What's the problem?" Nancy was the first of the two to speak up. They both watched as Karen shifted nervously.

"Do you remember Aunt Maggie?" Mike's expression turned blank as he tried to think about any time he'd met any of their extended family. He couldn't think of anything, but Nancy was nodding along as if she understood. "She phoned the other day. Her son has been slacking at school; not turning up and cheating on tests. She has reason to believe that it's his friends who've caused him to act out in that way. She's asked if he could stay here for the summer, so he learns a lesson, and stops misbehaving." Mike knew what she was going to say before she said anything more. "He'll be staying in the basement until we have time to clean the spare room. Mike, you'll need to sort out the pullout while you're cleaning down there." Even still, it took Mike a moment to process the words. Eventually, he shrugged and agreed to get it done, seeing as there was no point in arguing, and he'd been cleaning the basement already.

"I'll give you a hand," Nancy whispered under her breath, which Mike appreciated. He'd always struggled to pull the pullout out of its sofa form.

"Good. He'll be arriving tomorrow at around 10. I hope you can get everything sorted by tonight, but if not you'll have a few hours in the morning to finish it up." When both of them nodded in understanding, she took off after Holly, who'd managed to climb off of the sofa and was trying to run across the living room.

* * *

The bus had started relatively comfortable. The only discomfort came from the thought of sitting down for as long as he had to. After the first hour had passed, Richie realised the pain had turned from discomfort to painful. He unclipped his seatbelt and stood to reach for his suitcase filled with textbooks in the overhead luggage space. He pulled out the first textbook his hand landed on and a notebook. On the cover of his notebook, there was a pen clipped securely in place. Some kid in the seats across from him noticed the textbook he was gripping under his arm and raised an eyebrow. He sat back down, not bothering to clip himself back in, and shifted in his seat to cross his legs. The seats in front of him had a fold-out table on the back of it that he pulled out and rested his notebook on. He then placed the textbook in his lap and began to work. He barely noticed the passing of time or the crick that was forming in his neck as he became absorbed in the steady flow of his pen and the information.

He remained in that position until he could no longer make out the words he was reading. As he moved into a straightened position, he groaned as his spine popped in a way that was oddly comforting to him. The snores of a man a few seats behind him reached his ears and he groaned again, not out of satisfaction, but instead out of frustration. He hated the bus. He looked down at his notepad and smiled when he saw the book was almost half-filled. He knew he was going to have to buy more from a shop in Hawkins if he was going to do as much work as he'd hoped. In his mind, he wondered if anyone had ever had the idea of overhead lights for the coaches so that people could read when it got dark. He decided then, that if no one invented it, he would do it himself. He hummed again and settled back into his seat, no longer feeling the comfort of the seat after having spent over 5 hours in the same position. Taking a quick look around, he decided that it wasn't worth his time to stay awake. He took a glance at his wristwatch and took note of how long it would be until he'd arrive in Hawkins. He would have time to take a quick nap (that was the only sleep he could get when he was haunted by the nightmares of sewers and dead children). He closed his eyes and allowed the information he knew to wrap around him like a blanket. Sleep soon took him into the comfort of a dreamless slumber.

* * *

El sat in her room with a blindfold covering her eyes and static from the TV filling her head.

Eyes flicked open. El was standing on a ground of water, surrounded by blackness. She'd been attempting to reach the evil that had appeared in the town. All the previous times she'd tried she'd only been met with the sight of one of the missing children carrying a single red balloon. She was determined to find something more. Once again, she was presented with another dead child holding a balloon. The young boy was wearing a yellow raincoat and galoshes. There was a distant smile on his wet face. It looked as though he'd been dragged through a body of water. His eyes were filled with the same fear that all the other children had. Like all of the children she'd met before, she crouched in front of him and smiled. "What's your name?" It was an easy question. She had always tried to get the kids to answer but previously they never had. She was shocked when his eyes turned from gazing into the blackness to her as if he could see her.

"Georgie! My name's Georgie!" He moved his body next, turning it to face her properly. "What's your name?" He inquired, his head tilted to the side in a child-like confusion.

"My name is Jane, but everyone calls me El." She had been surprised that he'd spoken so openly to her. None of the other kids had even flinched to acknowledge her presence like everyone else did when she searched for them in her mind-space.

"Why do they call you that?" He sat down on the watery floor, the movement sending ripples across its surface. She was the only one who'd ever disturbed the water before, but perhaps the usual rules didn't apply with the dead.

"Well, when my friends first met me, they knew me as Eleven, so they called me El for short." He nodded and grinned up at her. She sat down as well, folding her legs underneath her. She was intrigued by the boy. As she examined him closer she realised he had a soft glow around him that the others lacked. There was still an innocent shine hidden behind the permanent fear that was embedded into his eyes. "Georgie." She started.

"Yeah?" The boy looked up at her, the fear shifted slightly, but not lifting.

"Who killed you?" There was silence for a while, Georgie having dropped his head. She waited patiently, in silence, for him to say something. After a few moments of static nothing, she was shocked to hear the soft sniffles of crying coming from the boy. Gently she moved, she pulled the boy into a hug. She'd half expected him to fade into dust like everyone else she touched in the mind-space did. When after a moment nothing happened, she smiled and hugged him a little tighter.

"What." It was the only word whispered into the silence. El looked down at the boy she was holding close to herself. She quietly repeated the question, under the impression that he hadn't heard her. "No. Not who, what." Georgie looked up at her and gave her a watery smile. In the time they had been interacting, she had noticed that the water on his face had begun to dry. None of the other children had shown any signs of progression. Most of them were covered in some kind of water, but it never dripped off or ran down their face. Georgie's water was running freely.

"Okay," She whispered. "What killed you?" She was afraid of the answer. If it was a Demogorgon or a creature like the Mind Flayer again, she wasn't so sure she was brave enough to do anything like that again.

"Pennywise." Georgie's voice barely raised above a whisper, as if scared to speak louder. El noticed that the entire time she'd been holding him, he still hadn't let go of the balloon. "Pennywise the dancing clown." All of a sudden, El was back in her room, the blindfold keeping out all of the light. She felt a presence beside her but recognised the breathing as Hopper. A small smile formed on her lips despite the blood running through the space between them. She untied the blindfold and looked up at Hopper. She committed the boy's face to memory so she knew she could find him again. Although, as she thought about Georgie, she realised he was still there, a permanent fixture in her mind-space. It felt strange to have his voice inside her head.

"One of the kids spoke," She began, slowly standing up and turning the TV off manually. He looked up at her with patient eyes. While it was annoying that he was so overprotective of her, she loved him none the less for being the best Papa she'd ever had. "He-he told me who- no, what had been killing those children." She took a moment to gather her thoughts. The information the boy had given her was very little, but it was something, which was likely more than what the police had to offer. "Pennywise." She whispered under her breath. She felt odd saying the name aloud as if it wasn't a word to be spoken aloud in the first place. "Pennywise." She spoke slightly louder the second time, but couldn't bring herself to raise the volume above a whisper. "Pennywise the dancing clown." She looked at Hopper with fear in her soul over only a few words. How was it possible to make someone so scared with only a name?

"So, it's a person?"

"No. Not who, what. That's what Georgie said at least. I don't think it's a person at all." Saying the name out loud for the first time made something in her mind shift. It didn't create fear like the name Pennywise did, but it created a sense of melancholy. She felt the urge to curl into a ball and cry until there was nothing left to feel.

"Georgie, huh? That's odd that you were able to get him to say anything. You said they always start chanting 'You'll float too' if you question them for too long." He seemed thoughtful. She agreed, it was strange that Georgie had spoken to her. It was like the trance all of the others were in didn't affect him as much. She noticed in his hands a pile of missing posters.

"Are those all of the children who've been reported missing?" He nodded and handed them over.

"I don't think there's a kid in there called Georgie, though. I've never heard of anyone in this town by that name." She nodded but looked anyway, comparing the grey face of Georgie to the faces of the missing children. She scanned over every face but none of them matched his. 

"I don't think he died here then. He seems different from the rest. There's this glow around him..." She trailed off. She wasn't sure what made Georgie different. It was strange, all of it was. She had an odd gut feeling that he wasn't part of the Hawkins mystery, but he was making himself a part of it none the less.

* * *

Mike and Nancy were waiting in the living room. Ted, their father, was sat in his Laz-E-Boy, paying more attention to the Golf on the TV than the door like the two teens were. Karen had Holly on her hip and was washing the dishes in the kitchen; How she managed it, Mike would never know. While Nancy had been helping Mike clean out the basement, she had expressed her excitement about seeing her cousin again. Mike, who'd never met the boy before, couldn't say he was excited at all. She had described him as a loudmouth who was around the same age as Mike. The clock in the living room struck 10. For a few minutes, it seemed like the entire world had come to a halt, but when nothing happened, time started again. Mike and Nancy continued to wait for their cousin to arrive.

It was half an hour later when the doorbell finally rang. Mike and Nancy hopped up, but to neither of their surprise, their mother beat them to the door, still with Holly on her hip. The door clicked open, and from Mike's position, he couldn't see his cousin. Karen greeted the boy with a quick side hug and a 'Welcome!' followed by a 'So Great to see you again!'. Mike couldn't help the chuckle that came from his chest at the false pleasantries his mother put on for guests. She stepped aside to allow their cousin to enter the house. Mike blinked. The boy stood before him, wielding two suitcases, looked exactly like Mike. The only difference being the thick pair of coke-bottle glasses the other was wearing. "Kids, this is Richard." Their mother spoke in an overly enthusiastic tone. Mike didn't know whether to shudder or to burst into hysterical laughter. The sight of his cousin unnerved him. Nancy had a wide smile on her face upon seeing Richard.

"Ah, just Richie is fine. No one calls me Richard." He gave Nancy a wink and Mike a wide grin. The shock had cemented Mike to the ground, but he still croaked out an introduction after Nancy had given hers. "Loving the good looks there, Mikey!" Mike blinked again, unable to bring himself to react. He knew his eyes were comically wide. Then he registered the nickname.

"You know, I'm not oblivious to our similar looks. That's a backward compliment if I've ever heard one, and also, no one calls me Mikey." He sneered, but Richie just grinned widely and chuckled light-heartedly. Nancy rolled her eyes as if she'd been expecting Richie's behaviour and was finding Mike's reactions hilarious (which was probably the case).

"Well, you're not wrong. Our looks are dashing. However, I'm glad you guys were willing to take me in for the summer. I don't think my parents would have let me stay in the house whether or not you agreed to have me." Mike felt bad for being quietly mad at his cousin for something that was entirely out of his control. Even still, he couldn't stop the remark that slipped from his mouth.

"Perhaps if you'd gone to school in the first place, this wouldn't have needed to happen." Karen was quick to scold him for his words, but Richie just shook them off. Mike didn't feel bad though. He didn't like people who thought school was a waste of time.

"Alright, Mike. Can you show Richie where he's going to be staying? Nancy, take one of the bags." Mike and Nancy both moved, her going towards Richie, while Mike moving away. He glanced over his shoulder to see Nancy take one of the suitcases and start after him.

It ended up being just Mike and Richie who went down into the basement, as Nancy refused to go down into the den. "Dang. I get the basement. I know you guys don't want me around, but that's a bit harsh." Mike just rolled his eyes. He ran his hand over the wall in the dark with practised ease to find the light-switch. For a split second, he thought he saw, just in his peripheral, the shadow of a tall figure in the corner of the room. The light flickered on a moment later and the shadow was gone. Had it been any other time, Mike would have flicked the light back off to make sure it was just a shadow and not some creature from the Upside Down, but given the odd look he was already getting from Richie for staring into the corner, he decided to skip that step. Perhaps that would be something he would come to regret later. "Holy mother of balls! Your basement is the size of my house!" Richie looked around, amazed at the comfy feel of the basement, despite the cold, dank air from being underground.

"The basement is my space. My friends and I spend most of our time down here, so don't mess it up." Richie grinned again and gave Mike a quick salute before flopping onto the pullout with a loud laugh. He then stopped shaking with laughter and turned his head to Mike. There was a solemn look in his eyes.

"Can't say it's as good as the clubhouse though. My friend, Ben, is crazy good at building, and he made an entire hideout for us in this little dug-out he found in the woods." Mike would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed by the thought of having a secret base underground. When the two lapsed into silence after that, not sure how to keep the conversation flowing, Mike decided to take his leave while he still could.

* * *

Despite being around the same age, Richie had decided that he and Mike were not alike. Mike Wheeler was still a child. There weren't terrors hidden in his eyes like Richie's. There wasn't the hardened resolve from neglectful parents. Mike Wheeler still had his innocence. Richie had none of that. He'd had to grow up fast, in the town of Derry, just to stay alive for one more day. He'd watched Mike run up the stairs from where he'd flopped onto his temporary bed. The pullout was far more comfortable than his bed at home, which was saying something because he knew a pullout was most certainly not meant to be that comfy. Once the other was out of sight, he sighed and turned to his suitcases. He knew he should unpack a little, otherwise, it would make him feel further from home than he already did. Instead, he stood and unzipped the suitcase filled with books and stared down at them for a moment, debating in his head which one to start with. He pulled out the same one he'd been looking at on the bus and grinned when he saw a note underneath it. He took the note out and smiled even wider when he recognised the handwriting despite the pink glittery pen.

_Hey, Trashmouth!_

_Try and make some friends, and don't stay inside studying the whole time._

_Love from, The Losers Club._

He rolled his eyes at their words. Bill had been the one to write the note with his neat, swirling handwriting. He wondered where they had gotten a pink glittery pen from, but remembered Ben saying that he had some glitter pens for Christmas cards one year. He put the note back down and went to pick up his textbook again when a voice suddenly rang in his ears. "Richie?" He turned in the direction of the voice. It wasn't a voice he recognised. A frown formed on his face. There wasn't anyone else in the basement, and yet the voice hadn't sounded like it had come from upstairs. He spun around again, scanning the room. Just when he was about to conclude that he'd been hearing things, the voice came again, louder the second time. "Richie!" He snapped his head in the direction of the sound. He failed to notice his breath getting short and his hands beginning to shake. His eyes landed on the door leading to the outside. "Richie! Come outside!" The voice sounded more and more familiar with each ringing it chimed. He desperately tried to think of where he knew it from, but a strange haze had fallen over his mind. Slowly, his feet carried him over to the back door. "Come outside, Richie" Come outside and float with me!" The voice shrilled. _Float?_ He tried to pull himself to a stop, but his body was no longer responding. His entire body remained transfixed on the repeating words. Fear prickled along the back of his neck as he fought for control. His hand reached for the door handle, gripped it and swung the door open.

Floating just before the line of trees was a bright red balloon. It was dripping something. As he drew closer against his will, he realised it wasn't dripped, not really. The rubber was melting away and dripping onto the floor. However, as it did that, a darker layer became visible. He gagged when he realised what the darker red was. Blood. Blood that spilt out over the rim of the balloon and washed over his shoes. He looked up and there, stood between the trees was It. He stumbled back, away from the thing, finally getting control back over his body. It launched after him in a staggering run and a wide, psychotic smile that was too wide to be human. Just as Richie opened his mouth to scream a voice cut him off. "Richie?" He spun to face the sound, suddenly finding himself back in the basement. Nancy was standing halfway down the stairs with a look of concern on her face. Richie could imagine his face was pale, but he couldn't remember why. "There's someone on the phone for you." She said, giving him a polite smile. He grinned back. The more she spoke, the less he could remember why he was so frightened only moments before. He felt his nose run, quickly wiping it away. He hoped he wasn't coming down with an illness.

"Yeah? Did they say who?" He began moving towards the stairs. Each step he took removed more and more of the moment before. His mind felt fogged like it was purposefully deleting a piece of itself.

"Not a clue. She just said it was important, and that if you didn't pick up the phone, she was going to catch the next train to Hawkins to beat you up." Richie knew immediately who it was. Only one person would threaten to do something that convoluted just because he didn't answer the phone. He hopped up the steps after Nancy. When they reached the top, the strange tingle of fear returned for only a moment on the back of his neck before fading into nothing.

"Thanks, Nancy Drew!" She rolled her eyes in amusement and showed him where the phone was. As he picked up the phone, he noticed an odd shake in his hand. For the time being, he ignored it. He was too excited to hear from Bev again. The moment the phone was to his ear, the voice on the other end that was so obviously his Beverly Marsh began speaking.

"So, when were you going to tell me you weren't going to be in Derry for the summer? You cannot hide behind Ben just because you're too afraid to call me yourself." Despite the scolding, Richie couldn't help the grin that formed on his lips at the sound of the best friend he hadn't seen since summer the year before. Her voice was soft and teasing mixed in with her false frustrated tone, and god had Richie missed it.

"Gee-golly. If I'd have known you were going to scold me for it I would have waited until you got to Derry before saying anything." There was her undisguised scoff of irritation. She used it frequently with them when she was in town. It was as if she thought she was better than all of them, which in all fairness she was.

"If you even think about trying that you'll be sorry you ever bet to find out what I'd do to you." He felt a playful fear journey down his spine. "But seriously, call next time, okay. I'm not mad at you." Richie saw Mike come down the stairs and offered his cousin a wide smile.

"Dang January Embers, am I going to have to break the news to Haystack or are you going to let him know that you love me now?" Mike looked at Richie in shock, clearly not having expected those words.

"Oh shut up Trashmouth, I would never date your gay ass."

"Excuse you! My ass is a pleasure to date. I can't believe you would do this to me. Didn't you ever love me?" He placed a hand on his chest and pulled his best sad face around his wide grin. Mike shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Of course I love you, you idiot. Ben's just better than you," She groaned, but Richie could hear the smile in her voice. "On the note of Ben. He said you were feeling down before you left. How are you?" Richie felt his smile falter but forced it back onto his face. "Richie," She warned. "If you lie, I'll know." He knew she was right. He felt the threat but knew she wouldn't kill him too badly for lying.

"Well, darling Beverly, I'm doing good. I mean, as well as one could do when they're in another town to their best friends against their will. Sure, I hate Derry more than I hated Henry Bowers, but you were all there, and it wasn't so bad if I got to see you all every day." Richie knew his smile was stretching too far. He dropped it in favour of looking down at his hand. He frowned when he saw the blood on his sleeve. It hadn't been there when he'd put it on the day before, but he presumed he'd had a small nose bleed at some point.

"Hey, Richie, don't go getting all sappy on me. We'll miss you as well. Maybe we could come up for a few days and see you as well!" He felt his smile form again. He fought back the small tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. "We can discuss that another time, but I've got to get to work in 20 minutes so I've got to go. I'll try and give you a call when I'm in Derry, alright?" Richie hated how short their call was. He knew they didn't tend to last that long, but it felt shorter when he knew he wasn't going to see her any time soon.

"Yeah, of course, January Embers. I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"You better not! See you later Trashmouth." She spoke between laughs, unable to keep her voice level for long enough. He waited until she'd hung up before putting the phone back on the stand. He looked up to see Nancy stood in the living room doorway with a sly grin on her lips. Richie would be lying if he said that grin wasn't intimidating. 

"January Embers? Cute nickname. Is she your girlfriend?" Richie couldn't help himself. He burst into laughter, curling into himself with how hard he laughed at her inquiry.

"God no! Bev is my best'est girl _friend_ and very much dating another guy. I would never ruin that for them." Nancy smiled and nodded. She pushed off the doorway and moved towards him.

"Alright. I was going to wander around town. I could give you a tour if you wanted." She spoke with amusement on her tongue, ready to give a witty retort. Richie decided he enjoyed her company far more than his doppelganger cousin.

"Lead the way, m'lady!" She shook her head at his antics, but still wore a wide grin on her face. Then, all at once, he felt a shiver roll down his spine. Not the playful fear he'd felt from Beverly, but pure, unadulterated terror.

"Beep Beep Richie." The voice echoed inside his head. Then, as if it had never happened, the moment had passed. He felt his nose run. Nancy was reached down for her shoes. He dabbed the wetness with his finger and pulled it away to see blood. _Bloody Balloon_. He quickly wiped the rest of the blood away with his sleeve. Nancy stood and gestured for him to follow.

"Let's get this show on the road!" Richie cheered and hurried out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an Englishman, I had to look up the word galoshes because we don't use it here. We just call them wellies so I got confused when I read the It book and that was the word used. But because I hate straying too far from the source material, I've decided to use the American variation.
> 
> I wrote almost 5,000 words. In fact, the paper version of this is probably longer considering a dropped part of the last scene.
> 
> My friends think I'm really weird for writing this at school but I don't care tbh...


	3. Missing Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Steven Kings book, the kids that got killed mostly all had their own chapters. I'm not sure if I want to follow that layout yet so I've decided to give it a try with this chapter. I don't give very gruesome descriptions.
> 
> I'm still working on the next chapter which is taking far longer than I would have liked and is turning out as long, if not longer than the last so that'll be fun... Hope you like this mini-chapter.

The woods were quiet. That was why 'Loudmouth-Jo' loved them so much. Whenever the town got too loud, she would run into the woods and draw whatever creature her mind invented. The pen moved fluidly across the page. She beamed, not taking in what she was drawing as she listened out for the familiar chirping of birds. However, the longer she tried to listen to the twitterings, the less she seemed to hear. Finally, her pen came to a stop. Her attention was entirely on the lack of sound surrounding her. The eery silence rang loud too loud in her ears. Her eyes locked on the trees before her. Nervously she listened closely for any kind of sound. Something rustled in the tree above her. Jo was known for being one of the most scared girls in the town, but her fear felt justified at that moment. Loud sounds were something that always scared her. Perhaps that was why she enjoyed the woods as much as she did. The noises amongst the trees were constant and calming, but the static silence that filtered through the trees at that moment left her feeling tense. She waited. Waiting for something to jump out and make the loudest sound she'd ever hear. 

Another few seconds of fear and silence passed before the rustling returned. She looked up just in time to see something fall from the tree she was leaning against. The object thunked down against her pad, and without thinking, she threw the book away. It took the object with it. As she did so, a small yelp left her mouth against her will. She watched wide-eyed as her book tumbled down the slope she was sat at the top of.

For another few moments, she watched it, unwilling to move and see what the object had been. Eventually, however, she moved along the dirt ground towards the book. It was lying open with a dead bird resting on the pages. Feeling bad, she gently picked it up. It was a small sparrow, nothing to be frightened of. At least, that's what she reassured herself with. Its feathers were ruffled, probably from her throwing it across the floor. Its body was stiff and cold, and the head was bent to the side and sounded horrid when she tried to straighten it with a finger. Something had killed the bird. The fear prickled back up her spine at the realisation. _Something that's still in this wood._ Carefully, she lay the bird back on the ground next to her pad. For the first time since she'd sat down, she looked at her pad properly. It was opened to what she presumed was her newest drawing. Confusion filled her. On the white paper, the drawing was a figure stood in the distance. Surely she hadn't taken that long to draw such a small thing. Then the fear climbed from the base of her spine up to the back of her neck. The thing, despite only being a drawing, was looking directly at her. A small breeze blew the page over, and the figure seemed slightly bigger. She was able to make out a few more of its features. A stringer breeze blew past and fluttered the pages over. She remained staring at the thing on her pages as it drew closer and closer. Her eyes grew wider and wider. It was grinning a horrid smile that stretched too far to be human and its eyes had an inhuman glint to them, and yet the thing seemed to have a human form. She could only watch in horror as it got closer and closer still, and it was going to come out of the pages if it carried on. Closer and closer still, until all she could see was the face. A scream tried to tear itself through her throat, but her airways were closed in her fright. The pages started bulging as they continued to turn. The forehead of the thing poking up as if it was pushing against the paper. It was coming out of the paper.

Bit by bit, the thing pulled itself out of the page face first. Then, to Jo's horror, the pages started to tear and there was the thing, underneath the pages, escaping into the world to kill her. Its eyes were beady, blood-thirsty and yellow. She tried to scream again, but once again, no sound came out. She scrambled off the ground, finally finding her body was responding to her. She scrambled up and ran as fast as she could away from the thing; Away from the clown.

It took too long for her to get a good footing on the dry, loose soil. She could still hear the pages ripping away to let the clown up into the world. Her drawing pad had betrayed her to the monster that would surely eat her. As fast as her legs would carry her, she launched forward in the direction of the town. The trees began rustling again. All of the birds that had previously been sitting on their branches were falling around her. The thundering of birds crashing into the ground almost drowned out the sounds of footsteps behind her. Terror coursed through her body as she stumbled over tree roots and dodged around bird-bullets. She didn't dare look back. She feared that if she did, the thing behind her would be moments away from grabbing her. If she could just make it back to town. If she could make it that far she would be safe. Her shoulder caught against a tree, snapping it back while the rest of her body continued forward. Even as the pain blinded her for a moment, the only sound she could manage was a small whimper. She was on the floor. She couldn't be on the floor. Scrambling back up, she took off again, gripping her bad shoulder with a hand to stop it moving as she ran as fast as her burning legs would carry her. Much to her demise, the footfalls were much closer. She wasn't running as fast as she had been before. Its footsteps were almost on her. She couldn't look back; She couldn't. Not when she could finally see the town just beyond the line of trees. A clawed hand curled around her neck and snapped her back. There was an awful crack and all pain faded away. She was vaguely aware that she was being held up in the air. Her feet were no longer on the floor, but she couldn't see past the tears in her eyes. Blinking the salty liquid away quickly. She wished she hadn't. Her eyes widened in fear. The thing looked just like a clown. It had white face-paint that wasn't face-paint and red marking that ran down over each eye to the corners of his grinning mouth. The mouth itself was curled back in a wide grin that revealed sharp teeth. She tried to get her body to struggle in its hold, but nothing would get even a finger to move. Its mouth began to peel back to reveal rows upon rows of sharp teeth, each one sharper than the next. Closer It drew her. Closer and closer, until all she could see was the mouth. She took her eyes off of the teeth and was met with three glowing orbs. Her jaw dropped open in the first scream she could tear from her tight throat. It was cut off a few seconds.

A small girl sitting on a swing in the back of her garden looked up when she heard a small squeak in the trees. Her mother had warned her to never go into the woods, so she went back to her swinging like the good girl she was. She looked up again and smiled when she saw the pretty red balloon floating amongst the trees. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at writing horror, why did I decide to write this. I don't even know if this is going to work.
> 
> Please let me know if this is any good. I wanted to write in a few kids dying, but I'm pretty sure I suck at writing in this genre so I guess we'll just have to see.


	4. It's All Fun And Games (until some kid dies, then it's hilarious)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I very accurately portrayed a panic attack because I've never experienced one to know how to write one with any degree of accuracy, so I'm sorry if I'm miss-representing it. As such, I don't think it should trigger anyone, but if it does, I'm really sorry. Please let me know and I'll add the appropriate warning into the main body of text to prevent that.

Hawkins was a quiet town for the most part. That meant when a car went past blaring the radio louder than normal, people noticed. That was exactly what happened with Richie and Nancy. Tainted Love by Soft Cell was playing loudly out of Karen's car and the two were loudly singing along with the windows rolled down. To say they got a few odd looks when they were stopped at the traffic lights would have been an understatement. "This tainted love you've given!" Richie sang out loudly, a huge grin on his face, the thoughts of his friends being back in Maine briefly long from the forefront of his mind. He was waving his hands around erratically along with the words, acting out and putting on a performance for Nancy who could barely keep a straight face for long enough to sing along with him. "Tainted Love!" The two screamed in unison because really, it couldn't be considered singing with how little they were trying to be on-tune. They burst into laughter again. Richie didn't think he would end up having as much fun while away from his friends, but he wasn't about to deny he was enjoying himself sitting beside Nancy in her mother's car, singing his heart out. As they came to a stop beside the church due to the traffic Nancy pointed out of the window, speaking over the music and between laughs. "That's the only church in town. We don't go very often since Mike isn't at all interested in that kind of stuff, but if you want to go, don't let that stop you." She gave him a kind smile amongst her joyous grins. He gave her a cheeky one in return.

"I'm going to have to agree with Mike here. Never been overly religious. And besides, one of my best friends is Jewish, I'm open to anything." They'd been around most of the buildings by that time, and they only had a few more major places to visit before they had to find something else to do for the rest of the day. Nancy gestured past Richie and across the street at another building.

"Well, that's your choice. That's the cinema. Business in town has been stupidly slow since the Starcourt Mall opened. People go there to shop instead of appreciating the local businesses." She looked downcast as she spoke. An idea popped into his mind. He'd not brought any packets of cigarettes with him because Eddie had thrown all of his stores out, but now that his boyfriend wasn't there to criticise him for his unhealthy habits, he could get as many as he wanted. A brief flash of guilt crossed his mind at the thought of upsetting Eddie, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. 

"Say? Is there a convenience store around here? I need to stock up on a few things, and, like you said, helping the local businesses." Her eyes widened. Something told him that not many people paid any attention when she said those things to them. He was determined to make sure he listened to her throughout the summer if that was what was causing the sour look on her face at the mention of local businesses failing.

"There sure is." She chirped, a face of joy back on, and it didn't at all seem forced. "My boyfriend's mum works there. Their only customer is the Chief of the Police most days of the week. It kind of sucks." Richie couldn't help but nod in agreement. That one man's spendings couldn't be enough to keep the shop open for much longer. They pulled away, driving a few blocks further before stopping in front of a shop. A nice looking lady was standing on a stool in the window, putting up a sale sign. Richie winced but moved to get out of the car. He felt bad for the poor shop. He hadn't known he was capable of feeling a connection to a shop so quickly, especially when he'd never been inside it before. "That's Jonathan's mum. Tell her I said Hi?" He gave her a warm smile and nodded.

"Is there anything you want. Might as well get it now, while there's a sale on." She grinned and leaned over the centre console to see him properly.

"You're verging real close to being an asshole Richie, but a couple of packs of gum and some new hair curlers if they haven't run out." He gave her a quick, two-fingered salute then closed the car door with a quick flick of his wrist, marching over to the store with what he knew people would think was a dangerous smile.

The inside of the shop was unnaturally quiet. Richie could pick out the distant sound of the radio and the shop lady making small sounds as she pinned up the sign. He looked over to her and frowned when he saw she was about to fall off the stool she was using. Swiftly, he moved to stand behind her, just like he did with any of the Losers when they were about to fall off of something, and placed a foot on the stool to stop it from wobbling. Perhaps she'd noticed the sudden lack of shaking from the stool, or she had a sixth sense for people standing behind her, but she turned quickly to face him, a look of shock present on her face. "Who-" He couldn't help the grin that slid onto his face at her flabbergasted expression.

"You looked like you were about to fall. I figured I should be a decent human for once and stop you from breaking something." He bit his tongue to stop the shameless flirt from slipping past his lips. He knew not all people took his flamboyancy as well as the Losers did.

"Oh, well, thank you." She gave him a warm smile and returned to put up the sign, moving much faster once she was no longer fighting with a wobbling stool at the same time as trying to put up the sign. He stayed with his foot on the stool for as long as she needed, not minding standing there, although he was aware he was probably already well over his expected time to be in there, and Nancy was likely getting worried about him. Or perhaps she wasn't, he didn't know how she would react.

Finally, the lady stepped down and thanked him again. Richie just shrugged and move to look around the shop, first for what Nancy had asked for so he didn't forget anything. He got her gum, that was easy to find, but he failed at finding the curlers. That meant he was going to have to ask where they were, or if they even had any. Feeling slightly more foolish than when he walked in, he made his way to the counter and gave the lady a sheepish grin. "Can't find what you're looking for?" She asked. Her tone was nothing but polite, and he couldn't help but sense a little bit of motherly love filtering through. It was a tone he only recognised from Bill's parents when they were addressing Bill or Georgie, but that had only been before Georgie had disappeared. He never heard that tone from them anymore.

"Uh, no. Nancy asked for some, uh, hair curlers? Sorry. Uh, Nancy Wheeler, she, uh, said I should say hi, from her to you, but I was going to do that when I paid but-" He cut himself off when he heard the light chuckling from the lady. He quickly snuck a glance at her name-tag, not wanting to continue calling her 'the lady' as she gave off more of a motherly feeling that either of his parents had ever been able to produce. Joyce Byers. That was a nice name.

"It's quite alright. Come, I'll show you where they are." She hopped out from behind the counter. He'd never had a shop assistant show him where a thing was, usually they just pointed in the general direction and expected him to use his commonsense to do the rest of the work. Perhaps if the place had been busier, that would have been exactly what she would have done, but he had a feeling that wasn't how Joyce Byers rolled. She led him through the aisles with skilled ease that only came from working in one place for a long time. "So you're friends with Nancy? Jonathan never mentioned you?" He saw the opportunity to lie about his age and quickly took it, although he knew he would still have to say he was her cousin, otherwise the lie would be outed much more quickly than he wanted.

"Oh, I'm Nancy's cousin. My parents sent me up here for the summer and Nancy offered to show me around. We're pretty close in age, so I guess she sympathised with me or something." Joyce looked over her shoulder, easily weaving around a shelf that stuck out further than normal.

"Well, I'm glad she hasn't left you on your own. How comes your parents sent you away? You seem like a perfectly nice boy to me." She was looking along the shelves, eyes scanning with perfected practice. He couldn't help the sudden urge to not lie to her that swelled in his chest. He'd never really felt someone care for him like she did, and the revelation was somewhat shocking.

"My teachers told them I'd cheated on all my exams because I got all As when I'd barely been at school." He shrugged, trying to make it seem like he didn't care about what they'd done. He knew he cared deeply about their disbelief in him, but he didn't want Joyce to know about that; She didn't need to know. She plucked a box off of the shelves and showed it to him.

"This is the curlers Nancy usually gets. I don't think you'd cheat, you don't seem to type." He smiled politely, taking the box and taking a glance at the price. He could afford them, and a few other things, which he supposed was a good thing.

"I didn't, but my parents didn't care about that, so I'm here instead of spending the time with my boy- shit." He quickly stopped himself from saying the words he wanted to. Hawkins resembled Derry far too much for him to be comfortable with talking about his sexuality in any way. Joyce must have caught onto what he'd been about to say, but instead of a face of disgust like he'd expected, she wore a kind smile and nodded solemnly.

"What's he like?" Richie let her lead him back to the front of the store, grabbing a few things off of the shelves that he'd wanted to get as they passed them. Joyce was still wearing her kind smile, looking interested in what he had to say. Richie knew the feeling in his chest that was swelling too large was adoration. How could one woman be so kind even if she barely knew him? She'd shown him more love in the few minutes she'd known him than his parents had in his entire life. He felt like he was with the Losers in their clubhouse all over again. She felt like home, he idly realised. Home. A place he'd associated with the Losers more than his own house. Home. Home, was Joyce Byers, and Richie couldn't find it in himself to complain.

"He's adorable. He's a couple of inches shorter than me, and he's got this look on his face that only appears when I tell a bad joke. It's like a cross between angry and adoration, and I can't say I don't deliberately make really bad jokes just so I can see it again." Richie tried to stop the flow of words. He tried to close his mouth and form an apology for talking too much, but her encouraging eyes dissolved his filters. "He hates the nicknames I give him, but I can still see all that love behind his eyes and I constantly feel like I can be myself entirely around him. I don't have to pretend when I'm with him." He could feel the colour fill his cheeks when he realised he was probably looking like a love-sick puppy. Joyce was still looking at him in understanding. Not once did hatred flicker across her expression, and he didn't know if that was because she was good at hiding it, or because she was just a nice person.

She stepped behind the counter, and before he even had to ask, she reached for a pack of cigarettes. "I know you're buying other things, but I saw you looking over the shelves when you came in." Okay, it's official, Joyce Byers gets mum of the year awards every year. She was probably the kindest person asides from Ben he'd ever encountered. If her son was anything like her, Nancy had picked the best man to date. She placed the pack on the counter along with the other items when the door opened again. Richie half expected it to be Nancy coming in wondering where he was, but instead, when he glanced over his shoulder he came face to face with a tall Police Officer.

The Officer had a hat on and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Heya, Joyce. Finally getting some customers?" He looked between, noticing the small glimmers of love in both of their eyes. Were they dating? No. In his experience, people who were dating didn't try to hide their love for each other.

"Just this lovely young lad." She rang up the items as she spoke. "10.30 please." She spoke in her still overly kind tone, but it still didn't sound forced. The Officer gave him a strange look when he picked up the cigarette pack and stuffed it into his back pocket while packing the rest into the bag Joyce had provided.

"Yeah? Are you old enough for those, kid?" Richie knew that would happen. He looked exactly like Mike, who looked like a fifteen-year-old. He grinned at the Officer, putting on his best 'I'm used to this' expression, which he knew convinced even Bill on the best of days.

"Sure am, sir." Joyce must have done something behind his back because the Officer immediately relaxed and nodded at Richie. With that, Richie took the bag and moved around the Officer to leave the shop, calling over his shoulder as he stepped out. "See ya later, lovely-lady!" He decided that he liked Joyce Byers more than any of the shop assistants in Derry, and he would be going back there without hesitation.

The car's radio was still playing as Richie slid into the passenger side, but it was quieter than before. Nancy was humming along with the tune playing, not particularly paying attention to the words. He didn't recognise the song. She turned to him when he closed the door behind him and grinned. "Got everything?" He pulled out the gum and curlers and grinned at the shocked expression on Nancy's face. Perhaps she'd presumed he wouldn't get the curlers because that wasn't something men did. He'd bought Beverly some awkward items before, so he had no qualms with buying a box of curlers. He tossed the bag into the back of the car then pulled his cigarettes from his pocket along with a lighter he kept in his shirt pocket. Nancy gaped at him. "There's no way you managed to get Joyce to sell those to you. You're Mike's age." She shook her head in disbelief. He offered her one, which she took without looking at him, instead, focusing on pulling away.

"I told her I was your age. She didn't seem to question it. Maybe my dashing looks gave her the benefit of the doubt." Nancy shook her head and groaned at his shameless words.

"I highly doubt that. You're not her type."

"Oh? And what is her type? That Police Officer?" Nancy grinned and chuckled at the question. They didn't have a destination in mind, so when Richie spotted an arcade, he quickly pointed it out and asked if she wanted to have a few games of some of the two-player games that arcades had.

"Well, if you mean Chief Hopper, then yes. Those two have had dough-eyes for each other for about a year now. I don't think either of them is doing anything because of Joyce's previous boyfriend, who passed away last year." He looked at her in shock and wondered briefly if there was a more interesting story behind it. He guessed yes from the haunted-dull that had fallen over Nancy's eyes for a moment, but it was gone a moment later, so Richie paid no attention to it. At least, he decided to ignore it for the time being. "Oh, and if you plan on smoking all summer, don't do it in the house. Mum will kill you if she finds out what you're doing." He nodded in understanding and agreed quickly to not smoke in the house. He'd hoped to find a spot he could hide in, in the town anyway. He didn't want to spend the entire summer locked inside the house looking over textbooks until he ran out.

They parked in front of the arcade just as a group of people pulled up on bikes. Richie spotted Mike amongst their ranks. The two watched curiously as the group all hurried into the arcade, grinning like idiots. "Still want to go in there?" Somehow, it was like Nancy could sense his hesitancy. She'd probably noticed that he and Mike didn't appear to get along.

"Sure, why the hell not. I'm not going to let some kid with a stick up his arse ruin my already dreary summer." She rolled her eyes but agreed, none the less, that her brother did have a stick up his arse. With that, the two stepped out of the car. Outside the arcade, Richie lit his cigarette and held out the lighter for Nancy. She shook her head and lead the way to the entrance of the arcade. Richie was tempted to link arms with her like he would have done with any of the Losers. He tucked his cigarette between his lips and took a drag of it to distract himself, but the guilt of Eddie finding out that he was smoking again made him exhale the fumes before they could reach his lungs and snuff out the end of the stick against the wall. He still couldn't bring himself to throw it away, so instead, he tucked it neatly behind his ear, hidden under his mess of black curls.

Inside the arcade, Richie spotted Mike and his friend all crowded around a game cheering on a ginger-haired girl as she casually beat whatever high score there was to beat. The only other girl in the group turned to look at him, or at least, that's what it looked like she was doing. He shook the shiver that rolled down his spine off and dragged Nancy over to the dance machine. If they were going to the arcade to play two-player games, they were going to make a fool of themselves on the dance game first.

So, as it turned out, Nancy was very good at dance games once she got over her initial nervousness. Richie struggled to keep up with her, and he was the king of dance games in Derry (it was actually on the arcade's wall of fame). As the two stepped away from the game, laughing, Richie spotted the Street-Fighter game. He remembered all of the time he spent playing that on his own during that summer, and then all of the hours he and his friends had spent rotating turns on the game because they wanted to know why he thought it was such a good game. "What's next, Mr I'm-the-best-at-dance-games?" Nancy smirked at the mock hurt he put on his face. He didn't think it would have been possible for him to have fun while away from all of his friends, but he considered Nancy a friend, so maybe it wasn't all that different.

"I think I prefer Trashmouth as a nickname, and how about a round of Street-Fighter, see who can get the highest score before they die?" Nancy grinned and agreed to try and beat Richie at the game. She seemed smug, probably due to her having beaten him at the dance game throughout several rounds. The two hurried over and put their coins in to start up the game. "Let's see if you're any good at this, Nancy Drew." He typed 'Trashmouth' into the screen as his name and the game began. As he played his first round he explained how the features of the game worked, when to use the joystick or the buttons.

"Say, isn't Trashmouth kind of an insulting name? How come you chose that?" She asked eventually. He'd been waiting for that to come up. He didn't meet many new people, but whenever they found out he referred to himself as Trashmouth, they often questioned why.

"Oh, it's the name people back in Derry gave me, pretty much because I never shut up. I always say what's on my mind and I'll stand by that until I die. Sure, it's a bad nickname, but people can't hurt me if I own the name with pride." He could see Nancy's smile in his peripheral and knew she agreed with him. He had figured out quite quickly that she wasn't the preppy type of girl, so perhaps she was also bullied at school. He wondered if she'd been dating Jonathan long enough for him to protect her from assholes who don't know how to accept difference.

"Wow, Trashmouth. That was oddly insightful of you. Who would have guessed you had a brain amongst those curls." He burst with laughter as she joked. He hadn't expected that from her. She was laughing along with him 

"Well then, I bet you wouldn't believe me if I told you I was the brightest of our friends. We've got quite a few nerds in our ranks as well." She was still laughing along with him, but it was slightly more subdued when she replied.

"Sure I'd believe you. Mum said you were a school dropout, but no dropouts carry around a separate suitcase filled with textbooks." She must have seen them when she'd gotten him for the phone call. He grinned and agreed with her, returned his focus to the game in front of him. She seemed to want to say more, so he waited patiently, eyes trained on the pixel men on the screen that he forced to fight each other. Brief flashes of swinging a bat and that clown flashing in his mind, but he couldn't distinguish if they were memories or not. Something about them seemed off, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. "None of what your parents said about you was true, was it?" He glanced away from the screen a moment to lock his eyes with Nancy. He shook his head, then turned it back to the screen in front of him. No longer did he see Street-Fighter as fun. All he could see was him swinging a bat at It every time the two figures clashed.

"Nope. None of it. If my teachers weren't jealous I could pull straight As without even turning up to school then my parents probably wouldn't have even found out. Besides, the only reason they believed my teachers over me was because they never once saw me studying." He was met with silence as the reply. He didn't expect Nancy to answer. He never expected that of anyone. If someone wanted to just listen to him talk then he would, and if they wanted to talk, he would let them. He didn't know why he was explaining his home situation to Nancy, but maybe it was because he felt like he could trust her. He took a glance at her again, she was deep in thought so didn't notice, but when he saw her concerned expression he realised why he told her. It was because she was like Beverly, easy to talk to, and exactly how he imagined a sister to be. He felt the presence of people approaching behind him, and instinctively he made himself just a little bit smaller, hoping it wasn't Bower's group of friends, even if they were back in Derry.

"Holy shit Max, that kid's better than you!" Just as he said that Richie's finger missed the button and he lost his last life. The Game Over screen drew a little frustration to him, but he was more focused on the people talking behind him. The person who'd spoken had a fairly strong lisp.

"Don't be ridiculous-" He spun around to give them a mock glare. He wasn't mad at them for ruining his game because they hadn't ruined it. He'd missed the button and he was man enough to admit that. The group was Mike's group of friends. The ginger-haired girl, Max he presumed, was hanging her mouth open in shock. She was looking between Richie and Mike almost fast enough for her hair to whip around. He turned his glare to a wide grin upon seeing her confused expression. He realised Mike must have neglected to even tell his friends that Richie was coming up to Hawkins, or he just hadn't told them that the two looked almost identical. Speaking of Mike, the boy had turned pale upon seeing Richie leaning against the arcade game.

"If I play better than you, don't ever try competing against the kids in Derry. It can get pretty violent, and that's just videogames. Real-life it only marginally worse." He noticed the girl that wasn't Max looking at him strangely. He tried to ignore it, but couldn't bring himself to pass up the opportunity. "Like what you see?" Much to his surprise, it wasn't her that reacted. Mike let out an incredulous noise.

"Richie!" He yelped in annoyance. Richie grinned. _Oh, they are too easy_. 

"That's my name, Mikey. Don't wear it out." He knew Mike was going to correct him for the nickname. He could see it and only let his grin widen by a minute amount so he didn't catch on too soon.

"Don't fucking call me that. My name is just Mike." Richie couldn't help himself. Mike had walked into two jokes in a row and didn't even seem to notice.

"Hi Just Mike, I'm Richie." Nancy burst into laughter beside him and so did Mike's friends. He glanced at the girl he'd started the joke-chain on and realised she was looking between the group slightly confused. He watched carefully as she suddenly realised the joke and burst into laughter as well. Richie felt smug that his jokes had worked so well; Even Mike was trying and failing, to hold back his laugh upon realising how easily he'd fallen for those jokes. Everyone in Derry was too aware of his reputation for him to be able to get a good laugh out of them. They either ignored him or knew better to reply when he had that grin on his face that gave away he was about to make someone the butt-end of a punchline.

Once they'd settled down enough for coherent thought, Richie introduced himself properly. "Name's Richie. Richie Tozier."

"I'm Max." Spoke the girl he already knew to be Max from the earlier conversation. "That's Lucas and Dustin. This girl here is Jane, but we all call her El." She seemed to pause, quickly doing a headcount then turned to Mike with a confused frown on her face. "Mike. Where's Will?" Panic flashed across all of their faces so quickly Richie was sure they would get whiplash from it. El was staring at him again but broke away when she sensed her friends' panic.

"Will stepped outside a few minutes ago. He said he needed some time to breathe." She supplied for them quickly. Richie watched as the panic quickly faded from all but Mike's eyes. "Mike. Don't go after him. I think the arcade was getting a bit much for him. He just needs to be alone for a few minutes before joining us again." Finally, the panic in Mike's eyes settled down, but he didn't relax. Richie didn't think he would have been able to either if he thought Eddie had gone missing. 

"God," Spoke Lucas, with an exaggerated sigh. "That idiot is going to give one of us a heart attack if he keeps doing that." Before Richie even had time to realise what Lucas had said, El speaking up drew his attention away from the words.

"You bet your fur..." She seemed unsure about her words, but the words were there none the less. The lazy grin Richie had been wearing up until that point fell away quickly. He didn't bother trying to force it back up. He knew for a fact that he and the Losers were probably the only ones who used that phrase, purely because it was an inside joke. How could she know it? That same shiver rolled down his spine, and this time he grasped it and held it there. Something was different about her. Mike gave her a concerned look and leaned over to ask her something. Richie presumed he was asking if she was okay because she replied with a nod. The group wandered away, deciding to find another console to play on while they waited for Will to rejoin them.

The shiver intensified suddenly. _Someone's watching_. He looked around but no one was looking in their direction. Everyone had their eyes focused on their games, and somehow, that put Richie further on edge than the idea of having the entire place staring at him.

* * *

The sky was clear and the sun had flushed Will's race red with warmth. Inside the arcade, his senses had been battered by all of what was going on. He knew his friends tended to panic when he vanished, so he'd made sure El knew he was going to step outside before he'd wandered off. He'd only been sat there for a few minutes before the hairs on the back of his neck had suddenly stood up. Even though it was still hot, he felt himself grow cold and all the previous flush on his cheeks fade away. He closed his eyes against a bitter breeze that blew past his face and left his body shivering like a leaf. In that time, he could have sworn he was back in that place, hearing the ambience that had filled that world and made it so distinct to his ears. He opened his eyes again, hoping and praying that he wasn't back there again. The street was empty of all life, apart from a small boy happily bouncing a basketball down the middle of the road. He wasn't in the Upside Down. He was in Hawkins, Indiana and he wasn't in the Upside Down.

Despite his non-verbal reassurances, his body remained tense. He watched the boy bounce his ball along the road, allowing the sound of the ball hitting the tarmac to fill him and calm his breathing. His chest still felt tight, though. Vaguely, he was aware of a low sound that suddenly penetrated the air around him. Recognising the sound, Will sat up from his slouched position and looked around. When he found nothing, Will settled down again, looking down at his hands and willing them to stop shaking. He noticed, at that moment, that the sound of the bouncing ball had tapered off. Looking up, the last thing he expected to see was a Demogorgon feasting on the boy's body while the basketball rolled away, hitting a curb. Fear shot through every fibre of his body, shaking him right down to his core. The thing seemed to be looking right at Will with its bloody face. Will struggled to find his breath again as he stared right back at the creature. He couldn't find it in him to open his mouth and scream, let alone run away from the monster that haunted his dreams for almost three years. Slowly the Demagorgan began creeping forward. It was stalking him, getting ready to pounce and take its meal. Will could only watch in horror as it crouched low, poised to pounce at the slightest movement.

A tense few seconds passed where nothing happened. Will had almost begun to wish that the Demagorgan would get it over with when, just as the thing crouched even lower to pounce, he found it in himself to move. He vocals were still failing him, and his chest felt far too tight, but he could run. So that's what he did. He turned and stumbled for the arcade, hoping to reach the door before his back was torn off by the creature. He staggered but kept his footing and launched for the door. He was almost there. He just had to get inside. Once he was inside it would go away. It couldn't be real. It wasn't possible. If it was real, El would be able to stop it before it could hurt anyone else. He hand shoved the door open and he flung himself inside, slamming the door shut. He felt the whispers of the thing's breath, even from inside the arcade. He couldn't feel it behind him anymore, and the goosebumps that had previously littered the back of his neck and bare arms were settling down. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see the Demagorgan waiting for him on the other side of the glass, but the street was empty again.

Only it wasn't. There, standing the middle of the road, right where the boy had been moments before, was a figure. A large cluster of bright red balloons covered the figures face, but he could see they were wearing a strange outfit of off-white colouring that seemed loose-fitting and frilly. He could see that instead of buttons on the top, there were three, large, bright orange pom-poms. The figure released their hold on all of the balloons. As the mass of red floated away, Will could only watch in terrified curiosity. The figure was a clown, their face painted white with two red markings that went over both of their- no, its eyes. It also had bright orange hair that framed the side of its head and left the top bald, but that was white as well. The first thing that came to mind was what Bob had told him that time in the car. "Mr Bauldo." He breathed. Mr Bauldo raised its hand and waved at Will. He blinked. He didn't mean to, but he did. When his eyes opened again the clown was gone. It was only at that moment that Will realised he hadn't been breathing the entire time.

Forcing himself to turn back towards the inside of the arcade, he tried to breathe again, but couldn't get his chest to loosen enough to take in any more than a few stuttering gasps. His heart was pounding against his lungs and ribs so fast that it was painful. He could sense someone approaching but realised that nothing was coming into focus. In his mind, he begged that it wasn't the clown who'd waved at him. His whole body was shaking and, much to his surprise, his eyes were scrunched closed. He didn't know when he'd closed them. The person was in front of him now. He forced himself to open his eyes, hoping and praying to anyone who'd listen that it wasn't that clown. In front of him was Mike. Only it wasn't Mike. Mike didn't wear glasses or tuck cigarettes behind his ears. Not-Mike had an expression of concern, but he didn't ask anything. Will continued struggling to breathe, and perhaps Not-Mike had noticed. The boy reached up with something in his hand. Will allowed him to move it closer to his face and a piece of it be placed between his lips. It was an inhaler, he realised distantly. Gentle words echoed through his skull that didn't sound like his voice. "I need you to take in a deep breath when I say so." He waited for the signal, not knowing if that voice was real or not. He couldn't tell if Not-Mike was speaking or not. "Now." He tried to stutter in a deep breath and found his lungs filling with a light substance. "Hold your breath for seven seconds." The voice counted, and Will complied, letting the light feeling fill his lungs and open them up. He could still feel his heart racing his chest, but it was no longer as painful as it had been. The inhaler was removed once the seven seconds were up and Will allowed himself to release the breath he'd been holding. As he did, he could feel the panic simmering down. There wasn't anything there that could hurt him, at least, not while Not-Mike was there.

"Thanks." Will huffed out, finally finding his voice. He hated how hoarse it sounded. Not-Mike gave him a calm smile. Will felt calm as well. It was like the other was projecting his aura onto him and helping him come down from the fear.

"Hey, it's no problem. It'd be pretty shitty of me to leave you on the floor having a panic attack." It was only then that Will realised he had sunk to the floor at some point during his panic. "I'm Richie. Do you want to talk about it?" Richie shifted into more of a sitting position than the crouched one he'd been in before. Will quickly shook his head. He didn't know if anything he'd seen was real or not, and he didn't know if he was ready to face the possibility of it being real. Richie nodded in understanding.

"That was a panic attack?" He knew it was, but he felt the need to get confirmation and for Richie to keep talking or else he was spiral back into hyperventilation.

"Yeah." Richie must have noticed Will's wish for him to keep talking, because he delved into the history of panic attacks and when it was first seen in mass effect, after any major war, and often in association with PTSD. Will felt more of the residue panic filter away into the back of his mind. He finally felt like he could breathe again. Most thoughts of Mr Bauldo far from his mind as he listened to the steady voice of Richie.

"Wow. Where'd you learn all of that?" Richie chuckled at the question. Will realised that the other's face was extremely expressive. It reminded him of a phrase his mother once said to him about 'wearing your emotions on your sleeve'. Will could feel his strained smile forming in response to Richie's light-hearted one.

"Oh, just in some book I read." Somehow, Richie was able to make himself look sheepish amongst the smugness that was playing across his features. Will observed as Richie gave him a calculating look. It was as if the other had noticed something about him. Usually, that kind of staring would unnerve Will, but he remained calm, allowing the other to look over him in curiosity. "I don't think I got your name?" Will's eyes widened significantly upon realising he hadn't given his name. His cheeks tinted red in embarrassment.

"Oh, sorry! I'm Will Byers." Richie grinned again. It was a teasing smile, playful. Will returned it with his nervous one.

"Well, Will. That makes you Mike's friend then. Bet he'd be jealous if he saw us chatting." Will chuckled lightly at the play on words. Richie chuckled along, although his was wider than Will's.

"Why do you say that?" Perhaps Will was letting himself get hopeful as he asked the question. He always hoped Mike would care about him just a little more than the rest of their group of friends, but it never seemed to happen.

"He's probably afraid I'll sweep you off your feet before he can." Upon hearing the words, Will's face flushed. It wasn't because Richie was sort of flirting with him either. Richie must have seen something Will hadn't to jump to the conclusion that Mike wanted to date Will. He couldn't deny that he hadn't thought of Mike in that way before. He was pretty ~~hot~~ cute, but it was unlikely he would ever feel that way about Will. He could feel his face heating up further as more and more thoughts danced around in his head. He was snapped out of them when he heard laughter. He looked up to see Richie bursting with joyous laughter that didn't even sound teasing. "Oh, man! You should see the look on your face. If I'd known you were going to have that reaction and not punch me in the face, I would have used a better line on you." As Richie lifted his glasses to wipe away his happy tears, Will was reminded of how much the other looked like Mike. It was almost uncanny how much they looked like each other. Gently, something prodded at the back of his mind. Before he could take the time to decipher it, and before he knew what was happening, a string of words fell past his tongue.

"Beep beep Richie." Immediately Richie's laughter fell away. Both of them sat in tense silence for a few seconds. Will didn't understand where the words had come from or what they meant, but Richie seemed to.

"What?" The other finally said. His tone was cautious and disbelieving. He didn't sound like he knew how to react to the words. Will didn't either. He was confused.

"I-I don't know. I don't know why I even said that. I've never said anything like that before. What does 'beep beep' even mean?" He kept replaying the words over in his mind, trying to understand where they'd come from and what they'd meant, but nothing came to mind.

"It's what my friends say when I take a joke to far. They sometimes use it with other stuff as well, but I'm pretty sure it's only them who use it." The emotions of Richie's face had vanished, but slowly they were coming back. He held confusion across his face, but his eyes told a different story. Will looked at those eyes that looked so much like Mike's and he thought he saw fear amongst them.

"You- You don't mind that I used it?" The question brought a small smile to Richie's lips. It was more strained than the previous ones, but it was better than the sudden blankness that had come right after Will had said those words.

"Nah." Will noticed El looked over to them from where she was stood beside the boys who were busy playing a game. "You can use it if you want. I don't care who uses it, so long as you're not an asshole about it." Somehow, Richie's eyes looked haunted. Will wondered if the other had been bullied wherever he'd come from and was reliving those moments in his mind in that second. He vowed to make sure he never used those words with negative intent towards Richie if he saw the other again.

For the next few minutes, or maybe it was hours, the two sat and talked about anything that came to mind. Something he noticed, was that Richie spoke enough for the two of them and then some, and while he always gave Will ample time to cut in and talk as well, he never expected the other to speak. He prefered listening to other people talk, so he appreciated the sentiment. He'd long since calmed down from the panicked state he'd been in before, but he enjoyed talking to Richie.

Eventually, Mike, Nancy and El made their way over to them. Mike looked mad, El looked confused and Nancy held an amused expression on her face. She probably knew something that the others didn't, knowing her. "What the hell?" Mike snapped, looking down at the two of them. "Why're you sat with Richie?" Before Will had the chance to say anything, Richie spoke up.

"Oh, we were just making out. You know, normal teenage boy activities, or is that not something you do." Mike's expression turned darker while Nancy and Will struggled to hold back their laughter. Seeing Mike get worked up so quickly over a few words had always cracked the two of them up. El was watching Richie with curious eyes. "Sorry for ditching ya' Nancy Drew." She didn't appear to mind that Richie had ditched her at all, too amused by the situation in front of her.

"Don't get mad Mike. Richie was just talking to me. He was just helping." Immediately all of Mike's anger sizzled away like hot metal in cold water. Will gave him a soft grin and stood up. "Thank you, Richie. I hope to see you around town sometime." Richie grinned up from the floor and winked at Will as Mike and El led him away. El and he waved goodbye to the two teens before hurrying after Mike, who'd already fled to find the others.

Will missed the bright red of Mike's cheeks, but El had seen them as clear as day.

* * *

"So Richie's your cousin?" Will asked outside the arcade as they mounted onto their bikes. El looked at Mike, curious as well about what relation Mike had with Richie. When she'd first seen him in the arcade, Georgie had begun bouncing around in excitement in her mind-space quickly spouting random phrases she didn't recognise. When she'd asked him how he knew Richie, the kid had fallen silent.

"Yeah. I kinda hate his guts. According to mum, he's some school dropout and he's being forced to stay here for the summer as a punishment," Mike grumbled as they cycled away from the building. They had decided to go to Max's house since that was the closest. He paused to look before swinging his bike around to the left and onto a different road. "I don't think it's deterred him much, though. Earlier he was on the phone to his girlfriend." All of them could sense a rant coming, and quickly looked at each other, getting ready to talk him out of whatever negative things he was about to say about the person who'd helped Will down from a panic attack when none of them had been around. El decided to leave that to the others, taking the distraction as a chance to fall behind the others and next to Will, who'd been cycling behind everyone in silence. She could hear up ahead, that they'd all convinced Mike to drop the subject and head towards Starcourt Mall. She grinned, looking at Will, who was also grinning happily at the idea of getting ice cream and bothering Steve at his work.

As the group hurried off, excited to get to Starcourt as soon as possible, Will and El continued to stay behind the rest slightly. "Are you okay now?" She questioned, quietly, not wanting the others to hear them in case Will wanted to keep the conversation private. 

"Yeah. I'm good now. It was weird. He knew exactly what to do to calm me down. He had an inhaler and kept talking to me until I could properly think again." El could sense there was more Will wanted to add but didn't know how to, so she waited for him to gather his thoughts. In the meantime, she focused on the road in front of her. She was new to riding a bike, so she still sometimes struggled to keep up with everyone else in their ability to ride well.

They were almost at Starcourt when Will spoke up again. "When we were talking, Richie made a joke and I-I'm not sure what happened really." El almost missed his words as he spoke in a tone quiet enough that the words were almost lost in the air between them. "It was so weird. For a moment, I just seemed to zone out. I don't even think it was that, because I was still there when it happened, but I said these words that didn't make any sense. God, he just completely stopped. I didn't even know what the words meant, but next thing I knew I'd said them and he was looking at me like someone had just died." He looked at El curiously, almost looking like he wanted her to have the answers to what had happened. She honestly didn't have a clue how to reply to it. At the same time, he looked afraid of what she would say.

"What did you say to him?" She questioned softly, letting him know that he didn't need to answer if he didn't want to. Sure, she wanted to know what it was that had him so confused, but she didn't want him to close up on himself entirely.

"Beep beep Richie." A memory flickered to the forefront of her mind, and she was sure it wasn't her own. She allowed it to wash over her without restraint.

_Richie and three other boys were sat on a carpeted floor laughing with each other. There were a deck of cards spread out in front of them, indicating that they were in the middle of some unnamed game. The vision was from someone stood lowly in the doorway. "Can I join?" Questioned a voice closer to the vision. It was distinctly Georgie's voice that spoke. The four boys paused and looked at Georgie._ El could feel the nervous energy radiating from the memory as she continued to watch through the eyes of the boy who'd taken up refuge inside her mind-space. _One of the boys grinned, looking at Georgie with kind eyes. "o-Of course you c-can juh-juh-Georgie!"_ For a moment, the memory faded away as they turned into Starcourt's bike parking. Once they were off their bikes, the memory surged back at full force. _Richie was jokingly doing some impression of someone but gell out of when the shortest of the four told him to 'shut the fuck up'._

_"That's not what your mum was saying last night." Richie quickly shot back with a smug smile on his face. He held up his hand for Georgie to high-five him, which the kid did with equal enthusiasm._ However, the action was met with a chorus of the words Will had said.

_"Beep beep Richie."_ The memory faded away as quickly as it had surged up. She couldn't hear Georgie in her mind, but she ignored that for the time being. Will was looking at her curiously, probably due to the blood she could feel running down her cupid-bow and into her mouth. She quickly wiped the blood away before any of their friends could notice. 

"I'll explain later." She knew that she would be having dinner with Will's family that evening like they did every week. Joyce always invited Hopper, and by consequence, El, to dinner at least once a week. Will nodded in agreement and the two hurried to keep up their friends who were almost leaving them behind.

Both of them failed to notice Mike looking back at them curiously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8,592 words. I think that's the most I've ever written for one chapter in any of the stories I've written. Oops. I really didn't intend for this chapter to be so long, but I got to where I wanted it to be so I don't care much. I doubt I'm going to write the rest of the chapters as long as this one, but if I do, so be it.
> 
> I'm not going to be updating this as frequently now, as I need to work on my other story at the same time, and I'm terrible at working on two things at once. To solve this, I've decided to alternate between uploading chapters so I can make sure I don't leave one for too long.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. What's That, There in the Darkness, There in the Trees?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, that this took so long to get out. I didn't have any motivation to work on my other story and since I alternate between which story I work on, I ended up delaying this one as well. I just between perspectives quite a bit in this one. I hope that's okay. Enjoy the chapter!

The air was cold, despite it supposedly being summer, but the temperature of the outside world didn't affect the temperature of the blackness that surrounded him. His bright yellow raincoat was the only colour to be seen in any direction. Distantly, he could hear the muffled sounds of the outside world. It was always like that. He couldn't remember a time when it hadn't been like that. However, at the same time, he could. He could remember Billy, his brother, and his brother's friends that never minded playing with him when he got bored. He could remember the flood, and the running water flowing down his yellow coat. Then, everything turned red. Red balloons. Red lips. Red stained teeth. Red blood. All of his memories were there, but they weren't. He'd tried to reach them back when El had first woken him from the Deadlights' hold, but whenever he tried, it only seemed like they got further away. Flashes of rain and a little boat that Billy had called 'She'.

He enjoyed the happy memories that revealed themselves over time, but sometimes there were upsetting memories as well, ones that didn't seem like his at all. Seeing Billy and his friends in a large cavern trying to fight off a clown. The same clown he knew had taken his life. It wasn't just Billy, Stan, Eddie, and Richie though. There were more of them. More of Billy's friends that he had never had the opportunity to meet. The clown was always jeering at them, and as those memories flicked in his mind, he tried and tried to warn them to get away from it; To run as far away as possible so they didn't get hurt. None of them ever heard him.

He could remember what it had felt like to be trapped in the Deadlights when those memories had been much more frequent. He had watched Billy age and grow weak like the old people in Derry did. He was forced to watch as Stan's bathtub turned red with blood and his fingers dragging across the tiles writing only two letters before the lights left his eyes. He could only stare in horror as Richie was forced into the Deadlights, floating off of the ground in suspension. He cried when Eddie was torn open after risking his life for Richie. Sometimes, Richie would survive the Deadlights long enough to watch. He couldn't watch as Richie took his own life not long after that. But he couldn't turn away. He was forced to watch those things on repeat for months, years even. Pennywise took joy in tormenting him.

That had been how he'd lived until El had saved him. He'd known that if he'd given up hope of ever being saved that the Deadlights would kill him, so he'd held on, waiting for someone to pull him from the scenes he was forced to see in an endless cycle. The gentle warmth that had surrounded him like one of Stan's soft hugs. That was what being pulled from the Deadlights had felt like. El's voice had been so quiet to him, but he'd been listening out for something that didn't fit the pattern. He'd heard it as if he were in an empty room. He'd grasped onto her voice and had forcefully pulled himself out of the visions of terror. The clown couldn't reach him anymore, but he was forced to carry a reminder of his death with him. The red balloon that he could never let go of. No matter what he tried, he couldn't untie the string from his wrist. In one respect, it reminded him of those times his mother would get him a balloon and she would tie a loose knot around his wrist so he didn't accidentally let go of it, but on the other hand, he didn't want the balloon to be there, and it was tied too tightly around his wrist.

More muffled sounds filtered into the blackness that he was trapped in. He looked up, able to see little snippets of the world outside. El and her friends were in some large building surrounded by shops. Nothing like that had existed in Derry when he'd been alive. He wondered if Billy would have known what to call it. He thought back on the arcade. He had always been able to tell when Billy had his friends around their house. He could have been out in the garden, but he would have been able to sense them heading up the stairs. That feeling had been a comfort to him. Suddenly not being in Derry had taken its toll on him. He'd never left the town before, and not being able to sense Billy and his friends nearby felt strange. So perhaps that was why he'd accidentally projected into El's conscious mind in excitement when he'd felt Richie. He desperately wanted the older boy to notice he was there, to just know. No such thing had happened. No matter how loud he tried to be to get the other's attention, calling out the familiar words he knew only the four friends and himself had used.

Eventually, he forced himself to quieten down when Richie only became more on guard as El muttered the words to herself in confusion. When she asked him what he was talking about, he found that he didn't have the words, so he fell silent. Gently, a voice prodded into the void, speaking more clearly than all of the other sounds filtering in. It was from El. "Hiya, Georgie." He flinched at the words. The image of a clown in a storm drain flashing behind his eyes. "How're you doing?"

"Hey, El. I'm okay, sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to be so loud." He knew the words were a practised response he used for when he upset his parents. Billy had taught it to him. He didn't see how it could have worked, but it hadn't failed him yet.

"It's okay. I was just concerned is all. You had never been that loud before. Was there a reason?" She wasn't there with him in a corporal form, which meant she wasn't fully submersed into her mind. He looked up and saw that the group were sat at a large table, with ice cream in front of them. He could see her friend, Dustin, up at the counter, talking to the guy standing behind the till. Georgie wondered if his brother had a job or not.

"I thought that the boy you were talking to was someone I knew from before. I don't think he was." He shouldn't have been lying. El had told him that friends don't lie. But Stan lied when he said his father was a caring man, and Eddie lied when he said that he was sick, but that was his mother telling him that he was sick, according to Billy and Richie. He knew Richie lied as well. He pretended everything was fine and nothing bothered him, but Georgie could see when something was bothering him. He wondered if they had ever told each other that they were lying. He wondered if him dying brought them closer together, just like he'd seen in those visions. 

"I don't mind. I was just worried." While she didn't have a corporal form in his plane of existence, he could tell she was smiling at him. He could just sense it. Like he'd been able to sense Billy and his friends, he was developing the ability to sense El and her friends. He could somewhat know what they were feeling, but he didn't understand those feelings. Billy would have known what they were. He would have been able to put a name to them, just like he had with everything else Georgie didn't know the name of. "I have to go again, but I'll talk with you properly later." He nodded, despite knowing that she couldn't see him. Perhaps she could sense the movement, because her voice presence faded away, not entirely, but enough that he knew she couldn't hear him as well anymore. They could never truly sever the connection, but they could quieten it.

Deciding to draw, Georgie imagined a piece of paper. In the mind-space, he was able to manipulate it however he wanted to. He grinned when a page of white paper and a box of crayons appeared in front of him, floating on the surface of the water but not getting wet. If he was still alive, he would ask Billy to show him how to make a paper boat so he could run it down the street again, but the second time, he wouldn't let it fall into the sewers so his arm wouldn't get eaten by a killing clown. Georgie giggled quietly to himself at the alliteration he'd made inside his head, not realising that 'killing' and 'clown' didn't start with the same letters. Mumbling the words to himself, he began drawing, the balloon tied tightly around his wrist wobbling in the darkness above his head.

* * *

The sun sat low on the horizon by the time the group began making their way back home. Mirkwood was quiet as they cycled along the road side-by-side. Max had called her brother to pick her up so she'd stayed to wait for him and they would both likely pass them at some point. Dustin and Luke had already turned off towards their houses, and Mike had passed his house, insisting on riding with El and Will back to the Byers so they weren't on their own. He rode with his shoulders tucked up to his ears. It wasn't cold at all, but he had a strange feeling that there was something in the trees watching them. Glancing over to Will, he realised the other must be feeling the same thing because he was looking around carefully as he rode. El was quiet. "Do you feel that?" She spoke softly, finally breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

"Feel what?" Of course, Mike knew what she was talking about, but he felt the need to confirm that none of it was real. The air felt like the Upside Down, but it wasn't cold. It was like a poor imitation of what they felt, but different at the same time.

"I don't know. It just feels different..." She opened her mouth as if to continue speaking before trailing off. Slowly, her bike came to a stop, the two boys following her lead. All of them looked around from on top of their bikes, slowly, cautious and entirely unwilling to admit they were looking for something. Mike felt a cold shiver roll up his spine. Something was watching them from beyond the trees, within the darkness beyond them. He could feel it. He could... He could see it. His eyes locked onto a figure in the trees. Slowly the thing raised a hand and waved at him from the distance. Mike's eyes blew wide and fear gripped at his being. Slowly, he raised a shaking hand and pointed at the figure in the distance.

"Who the hell is that?" A voice in the back of his mind reminded him not to swear, but the fear gripping at his entire being drowned the voice out. He could sense El and Will turned to the direction he was pointing. He heard El gasp and Will stumbled on his bike in shock.

"Mr Bauldo." Will choked out in horror. Mike didn't know who that was, but he was sure it terrified him. At the same time, El mumbled something else, but it was drowned out by the blood pumping in Mike's ears. "We should get out of here, fast." They all immediately turned away from the figure and began cycling as fast as their legs would carry them away. Mike stole a chance glance over his shoulder and found the thing stood in the middle of the road, still waving after them. It was a lot closer than it had been before, and Mike realised it was a clown. It was grinning inhumanly after them, and Mike could have sworn he could hear laughter from it despite it being far behind them by the time he realised what the ringing in his ears was. Terror shook his whole body.

The three of them reached the Byers' house in record time, still white with fear from what they'd seen in those trees. Mike didn't want to cycle back along Mirkwood alone but knew he would have to. Joyce came out of the house and greeted each of them. "I'm glad to see you all made it here okay. Will you be alright cycling back on your own Mike? I can drive you back if you'd like?" He thought about taking her up on her offer. He didn't want to run into that thing again, but something in the back of his mind reminded him that it was probably just some person trying to be creepy in the trees.

"No thank you, Ms Byers. I'll be alright on my own." El and Will looked terrified at the idea of him cycling on his own. so he quickly added, "Don't worry guys, I'll ride like lightning back home. I'll give you a call when I'm back in the house." El still looked troubled, but Will begrudgingly nodded and stepped back behind his mother. Mike turned to leave after saying bye to Joyce when he was suddenly grabbed from behind. Tensing for a second, Mike tried to figure out who'd grabbed him, before recognising the arms as Will's.

"Be safe, Mike," Will whispered before pulling away and hurrying into the house after his mother and El. Mike glanced back and smiled slightly, feeling his face heat up from the contact. The door shut behind Will without the boy stopping to look back. It was probably just Will being worried for him. Mike knew the boy scared easily when he was a lot younger, and that still hadn't gone away entirely. Still, the thought of Will caring more for him than the other's warmed his heart in a way it had never been before. He grabbed his bike and hopped onto it and took off back down the road towards Mirkwood.

The trees lined his vision as he cycled down the middle of the road. He was trying to stay as far from the tree line as he possibly could, especially after that clown. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked the road behind him, but it was empty. Looking forward again, Mike suddenly gripped the brakes in shock. Before him stood Will. The teen was silent as he stood right in the middle of the road. Mike had no idea how he'd gotten there. A frown formed on Mike's features as he looked at the boy in front of him. It looked like Will, but there was no way it was. How was it possible. "Will? What's going on?" Quickly he jumped off it bike and carefully approached the boy, but for some reason, he hesitated to reach out for his best friend.

"I know your secret." Will's face remained blank as he spoke. Mike tensed. What could Will possibly know? Why was he out in the trees after they'd just found a clown amongst them all alone? "Your dirty little secret." A grin formed on Will's face. It was then that Mike took a step back. That smile wasn't Will's. It looked like... It... Mike held his breath as he stared at the thing in front of him. That wasn't Will. It couldn't be. Will didn't have that hungry look in his eyes. Will didn't grin so wide that his lips began to split at the corners. Mike fumbled back for his bike, trying to grab for it as Not-Will's face began tearing open. Blood dribbled down his lips, staining them red as the splits grew wider and wider. His foot kicked at the handles of his bike and he stopped moving backwards. Instead of reaching down for the bike, he found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the thing in front of him that had impersonated Will. "I know your secret." Taunted the thing. Its whole face moving as it spoke. "Your dirty _little_ secret." As the thing spoke, it spat blood onto Mike's face. He blinked, trying to get the liquid out of his eyes without moving his hands that had begun reaching down for his bike once more.

Clasping onto the handles, Mike pulled it up and threw himself onto it and pushed off swiftly. He knew there was a small dirt track in the wood that was perfect for cycling along. If he could reach it, he'd be able to get away from that thing behind him. He could hear it chasing after him as he peddled through the trees, weaving between trunks and hopping over holes. Mike knew if he glanced back, it would be right behind him, so he didn't dare. He needed to keep ahead of it.

Despite the darkness amongst the trees, Mike was able to spot the track that led into town. Relief washed over him as he launched his bike up onto it, skidding the back wheel around so he was able to cycle in the correct direction. He took that split second to glance at the thing chasing him. It was that clown. It vanished from his line of sight, not moments later. He didn't bother to worry about it as he focused on staying on the track as he tore along it to get home.

* * *

Laughter filled Nancy's room. She was sat on her bed with Steve and Jonathan opposite her, making jokes with each other while she tried to get some studying done. She'd managed to get into college and was planning on getting a degree in journalism so she could start writing news for the town, but that meant she had to work hard to get good grades and work even harder to get respect from people she would end up working with. Maybe she could just start up her own news company for their small town and write about small local problems without the restrictions of some white, privileged man telling her what to do.

Looking up at her boyfriends, a smile formed on her lips. If that was what she wanted to do, she knew they would be with her to the end. Neither of her parents knew that she had two boyfriends. How could she explain that they had a group relationship when she couldn't even explain their dynamic to herself inside her head? Mike and his friends knew, and that was all that mattered, because they'd been with her through some of the most dangerous times of her life, and she felt like their bond was made of steel because of it. There were no more secrets between her and her brother like there had been before. She didn't know if either of the two boys before her had told their parents; She wouldn't mind if they had, but she liked to think that it was their little thing.

Steve lifted himself from his curled position from how hard he'd been laughing and grinned widely at her. He opened his mouth to say something when there was the sound of the front door slamming shut came from downstairs. All of them looked to the bedroom door as they heard heavy footsteps run up the stairs and past the door to Mike's room. "I wonder what happened?" Jonathan questioned in a low whisper. It was as if he dared not raise his voice in case something happened. They could still hear Mike in his room as he loudly cursed, meaning something was wrong.

"I'll go check on him," Nancy said slowly, still cautious at whatever had spooked her usually joyful brother. She wondered what had him in such a bad temperament. Cautiously, she stepped past the threshold of her room and out in the hallway. Glancing down the stairs, she could see all of the lights on. They hadn't been when she'd gotten back with Richie (where he was, she didn't know), which meant Mike had turned them all on when he'd come in. Why would he do that? Gently, she knocked on her younger brother's door. "Mike? Are you okay?" There was silence. Mike had stopped moving and speaking on the other side of his door.

"Nancy?" Came his tentative voice. He sounded unsure. She could hear the fear in his voice.

"Yeah, it's me. What's going on?" She reached to open the door, but as she turned the handle, nothing happened. He'd put something in front of the door to stop her from opening it. "Come on, Mike. Let me in." There was silence on the other side of the door again. She waited patiently, knowing that it might take him a moment to get over what was making him so scared to have shoved something against the door to stop her from coming in.

"How do I know it's you?" That was not the reply she'd been expecting. Why would he ask that? Nancy rested her head against the door and sighed gently, willing herself to keep her temper in check and be patient with her little brother who was terrified of something. She had just wanted to make sure he was alright.

"Mike. I promise. Whatever it is that's got you acting like this, it's gone. It's just me, so let me in and we can talk okay?" There was another pause, and Nancy thought for a moment he was going to continue to disbelieve her. However, after a few seconds of silence, she heard him move towards the door. There was the sound of something being moved, and when she tried the door again, it slid open. Mike was standing on the other side of the door, looking fearful. Nancy moved forward immediately, enveloping him into a tight embrace. "Oh, Mike. It's okay."

They both stood there for a moment, holding onto each other tightly. Nancy took the moment to look around the room. Mike kept his room somewhat tidy, but she could see that he'd begun to stack things near the door to block it off and the window was stacked with things to stop someone climbing in through it. She frowned. What did he think was after him?

Eventually, Mike pulled away wiping his teary eyes. "Now," Nancy started. "What happened?" So Mike explained what he'd seen along Mirkwood on his ride to the Byers' house and on the way back. Nancy couldn't tell if she should believe him or not, but given how hysterical he'd been, she was willing to bet that he'd seen something along that road. A frown settled onto her features. Could it be something from the Upside Down that had gotten through despite El closing the gate before? Maybe the thing had come through before they'd closed the gate and it'd slipped past their notice. "Do you think it's from the Upside Down?"

"I don't know. Somehow, I don't think so. It felt different. When we were riding we had this feeling. El said it felt like the Upside Down but different, and everything from the Upside Down feels the same." Nancy nodded at Mike's explanation. She was willing to believe him. Then a thought struck her. Richie. If they were going to hunt the thing, they couldn't let Richie know what they were doing or else he would think they were completely insane. "What're we going to do?" She thought about it for a moment. Saying that they should try and find the thing on their own seemed wrong.

"We could tell Hopper. He might be able to do something more if this thing is a problem in Hawkins." Mike nodded and the two came to the agreement that they would head over to the station in the morning and let the chief know what was going on. They needed to put a stop to this thing before it got to anyone else.

* * *

There was soft music playing in the background and Joyce lay the table for dinner that night. Will and El were in his room playing some videogame on that new console they'd saved up to get Will for Christmas. Jim had begun pacing the length of the living room in that time. Joyce knew there was something on his mind, but didn't push for it. She knew it took him time to wrap his head around some things, and that she needed to give him time to process whatever new problem had entered his brain. She turned back to the stove, stirring the rice so it didn't stick to the bottom of her saucepan. She could hear Jim cease his pacing, but didn't turn around. She didn't enjoy admitting that when he was in the room she was so much more aware of her space. She always knew exactly where he was when they were in the same area. "These kids, that are going missing." She stopped stirring the rice. It would be fine for a little while. She had a feeling this was something she would need to listen to. "El thinks it's some clown that catching the kids and making them _float_. That can't happen, can it?" Joyce turned from the stove to face the man. She was cautious. Looking at him, she knew he wanted to only hear that what El was suggesting was impossible, that it had to be some psycho instead of something supernatural and other-worldly again, but she couldn't lie to him either.

"A clown? That's not outside the realm of possibility considering all that we've been through. A-As much as I hate to admit it, she might be on to something." Jim scoffed. Joyce shook her head, amused at his denial. Despite all that they'd been through in the past few years, she was surprised he hadn't become any less sceptical of the crazy things that could exist.

"I just think it's odd. She said the kid she spoke to in her mind space wasn't even from Hawkins. That means this thing, if it is a clown, has travelled from one place to another. I can't even track down the kid's family to ask if this has... Actually." He paused and began pacing again. Seeing that he was slipping back into his mind, Joyce turned to the stove once more and turned over the chicken breasts that were starting to burn in the frying pan. "What if," She turned again, giving the man her full attention. "What if I called some people higher up and asked if I could take a look at records of things similar to this happening. That way, I might be able to hunt down the kid she got her info from." Joyce smiled widely. It was impressive to watch when Jim Hopper came out of his rut and started acting more like an officer of the law again. It was rare, but she enjoyed seeing it.

"It's a theory. You won't know unless you try." She smiled again and gestured to their house phone. He would be able to make the appropriate calls from there, and she would be able to listen in. If what El was saying was true, then she wanted to make sure that she was there to offer whatever help that she could. He nodded in agreement and hurried over to the phone, grabbing it roughly from where it had been resting and dialling numbers quickly. She was impressed at how quickly he'd made the decision. She turned back to the dinner but kept her ears out for what he was saying.

Food was being placed on the table by the time Jim Hopper was done making all of the calls he needed to. Joyce called out to the two kids to come and get their food before it got cold while laying down the plates so they could serve themselves whatever they wanted to eat. Usually, she would just cook enough for one portion each and serve it straight onto warm plates, but when Jim and El were staying for dinner, she changed it up a bit to give them more options to chose from. It was like a Sunday roast or a Christmas dinner, but on whatever day of the week they wanted.

Will and El came running in, giggling loudly as they sat down and because dishing food onto their plates. Joyce sat down opposite them with Jim on her right. He looked troubled over something, but again, she knew better than to pry before the time was right. He would come to her when he either figured it out or got stuck and gave up. She just wondered which it was going to be this time around.

* * *

A few days past without any more kids going missing. The police department had insisted on introducing a curfew for everyone to follow that meant no matter the person, they had to be home by 7 PM. Jim thought it was a stupid idea because these children were going missing at all times of the day or night, so it didn't matter, but he didn't argue against it, too caught up in reading through the files that had been dropped off at his office the day before. It seemed like Derry Maine was one of the places that got hit fairly frequently by strange children disappearances, so he'd decided to start his search for one Georgie there. Jim closed one file and opened the next. What he found was the most recent lot of missing children's cases. These ones were considered solved, unlike all of the rest that he'd looked at. He wondered why.

The chief was snapped out of his musing when El flopped into the chair next to him in their home and smiled politely up at him. He gave her a smile back before turning back to the currently open file. "What are you looking for?" She spoke in a small voice, likely to not startle him too much while he read.

"I was hoping to find out who this Georgie kid was, but I've not found a single one yet. I doubt this file will provide many answers either as all of these kids were killed and the murderer was found." He took a deep breath and began thumbing through the file, looking for anyone by the name of George or Georgie. El remained silent after that, peering over his arm slightly to look at the reports. He hadn't expected to find anything in this file. El had said the thing doing the killing was some clown. She, Will and Mike had all seen it, but this case was solved, with the killer being put in a mental hospital. He didn't even know why he was bothering to look in the file in the first place. He flicked to the last page and paused. There, on the last page of the file was a picture of a boy marked as still missing. His body had never been found unlike the rest from the incident.

"That's him. That's Georgie," El spoke in a hushed voice. It sounded filled with grief that didn't belong there. He slid the report out from the file to read over it properly.

"George Denbrough, Derry, Maine. The body is still not found despite all other missing children being found. It is thought that his case in separate from the rest." He scanned over the rest of the file. It was mostly blank since they couldn't complete the file until the killer was found or the body was uncovered. El was reading it over his arm with a grim expression on her face. "I'm going to call the Denbrough's and see if they have anything they could add to what little we know." El nodded and moved back so he could get up. He stood and grabbed the phone, dialling the number for the Denbrough's resident that was on the report paper.

It only rang twice before the phone was picked up by a young-sounding boy with a small stutter. "Hello, D-Denbrough residents. Hoo-Who's this?"

"Hi, this is Jim Hopper from Hawkins, Indiana, Police Station. Are your parents at home?" El was gesturing for him to look at her out the corner of his eyes. He turned slightly to look at her. She raised her hand up to her ear with the thumb and pinky finger poking out to make a phone shape, then pointed at him, then made a speaking motion with her hand. She wanted him to speak to the boy.

"Uh, no. Sorry, they're both at work. I-I can let them kn-know to call you b-back later if you'd like?" The boy sounded confused like he didn't understand something. Jim presumed he was just wondering why someone from Hawkins would be calling to Derry.

"No, that's alright. Would you mind if I spoke to you instead?"

"N-No, t-that's al-alright. What did you w-want t-t-to know?" The kid must stutter more when he got nervous. Jim didn't blame the boy. He had yet to explain why he was calling.

"I was wondering what you could tell me about the death of George Denbrough?" There was a pause on the other end of the line like the boy was contemplating what to say. If this kid knew anything about the clown, then he likely wouldn't mention it, so Jim needed to find a way to get the kid to speak.

"Th-the flood w-wa-was j-just passing a-and Juh-Juh-Georgie w-wanted to m-make a b-boat to r-ride i-in the g-gutters o-of the r-road. I h-helped h-him m-make it and se-sent hi-im out o-on his o-own. H-He d-di-didn't c-c-come b-b-back." Jim waited patiently for the boy to finish getting out what he wanted to say. From what he'd heard, the boy blamed himself for the death of Georgie. He would have usually paused and come back later to question the kid since it was clear that the more he thought about Georgie, the worse his stutter got, but Jim needed to get the answers as soon as possible before some other kid went missing.

"Did you see anything happen after that? Anything at all? We need all the information we can get." He didn't know how well he was getting across that he needed to know about a clown, but from the disapproving look on El's face, he guessed he was failing. He gave her a pointed look, challenging her to do better.

"N-No." He nodded and was about to end the call with the kid when El stepped forward and took the phone from him.

"Hi. You're Bill, aren't you? I'm Jane Hopper. This is going to sound odd, but can you tell us if there were any sightings of clowns in your town while these killings were going on?" There was silence on the other end of the line. Jim could tell the boy wasn't speaking. The phone was loud enough that someone standing close enough would be able to hear what was being said on the other end of the line relatively easily. Finally, the boy on the other end of the line spoke up.

"What have c-c-clowns got to do with Juh-Georgie?" The boy, Bill, must have taken the time to calm himself so he didn't stutter as bad. Jim frowned. Maybe the kid didn't know anything.

"Something came to this town a few weeks ago. I can find things with my mind, so I was trying to find the thing, but all I kept finding was the missing kids. That was until I found Georgie. He told me that it was a clown that had killed him. My friends and I saw it the other day. I was wondering if you'd ever seen that same clown?" There was silence again. Jim was beginning to believe the kid had nothing useful to tell them. Perhaps it would have been better to wait for the parents to get home and ask them, but something told Jim to be patient and see what the kid had to say if anything at all.

"O-oh." Bill was almost too quiet for Jim to hear as he spoke. "Pennywise. It-It's a clown that can take on the f-form of your w-worst fear. If th-there is more than o-o-one of you, i-i-it'll be a clown, but if y-you're on y-your own, then i-it l-looks like your w-wor-worst f-fear." El nodded and said thanks. Jim stopped paying attention after that as they delved into the smaller, finer details of what the clown could do. Nancy had called him the day after he'd had dinner at the Byers, saying the Mike had cycled home on his own and seen the clown again, but the second time it was pretending to be Will. Why would Mike's worst fear be Will?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised that I barely included Richie at all in this chapter. Oh Well. I originally had him in the chapter, but I thought it sounded too rushed so I deleted the whole thing and didn't add him back in. I hope this version is better.

**Author's Note:**

> Grammarly says I've made a lot of mistakes in this but fuck it, I don't want to rewrite it better than I did on paper because I like it the way it is... 
> 
> The formatting I used for this story is much more like how Steven King wrote the book and how I would write. He uses italics to signify the difference between past and present, which isn't something I've ever done before, but I think it's an interesting way of laying out the story.
> 
> I'm so sorry about how OC the characters probably seem. I've never tried writing them before and I don't know how to...


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